


A Lack of Destiny | Season One

by ThorinBilbo



Series: Annabeth Winchester: The Chronicles of being the Baby Sister [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Annabeth Winchester, Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, Family, M/M, Multi, No Wincest, Original Character is Bisexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThorinBilbo/pseuds/ThorinBilbo
Summary: Annabeth Winchester never knew her mother. She practically didn't even know her father either. She was raised by her brothers, both of which adored her. Born two years after Sam, she is used to being regarded as too young or too frail, but that isn't the case. She's a hunter through and through thanks to Dean and with Dad missing on a hunting trip, she is determined to contribute as much as possible, even if Dean does think it's necessary to uproot Sam from his apple pie life at Stanford that he disappeared to four years ago. Even at twenty years old, she's still treated like a child that doesn't know any better. She's ready to prove she's not. | Based on Season One
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Sam Winchester & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Annabeth Winchester: The Chronicles of being the Baby Sister [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940545
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Annabeth was born on February 14, 1985, so she is two years younger than Sam, and she is six years younger than Dean. Mary Winchester died on November 2nd, 1985, so Azazel came for Sam when he was two years old, instead of before.

_She was perfect. Little Annabeth Lilith Winchester. Hair as black as coal and eyes as blue as ice. She came into the world a screaming, pathetic thing, something that instantly turned off her six year old elder brother and even frightening her two year old brother, who clapped his hands to his ears at the shrill cries that made him jump. John and Mary didn't have the heart to remind him that he'd have to share a room with her. Dean was ever so grateful for his age. But, eventually, as all things with young children, they grew to love the new addition, Dean more so since he could grasp the concept. Sam was still waddling around in diapers._

_Their family was complete. Everything they ever wanted, they had. Their house was tightknit, perfectly fit for three kids to make a mess of. They loved each other eternally to the moon and back and back again. Their children were perfect, albeit a little crazy. Dean was active in running around, Sam struggling to keep up with him, while Annabeth proved early on she loved to cry long into the night unless one of her parents were holding her. She did best with her brothers standing over her crib. Well, Dean peeking over her crib, while Sam peeked into the bars, his shaky legs still learning to stay upright._

_Their family dynamic was as normal as any other, upon first glance, of course. Dean was the leader, on the brink of several growth spurts that would have his soft, baby face slimming down into an angular smolder. Until then, he wears his Transformers t-shirts and capris pants, struggling to hold Sammy up while they played pirates, including Annabeth to the best of their ability in her baby swing, watching on as Dean triumphantly rescued his scurvy crew with a foam sword, Sammy right at his side, an eyepatch forced onto his big head while he sucked his thumb and watched his big brother admirably, not knowing anything he was saying. Mary would peek in now and again, her hands occupied with ingredients for her specialty homemade baby food Annabeth seemed to enjoy and a platter of fruit for the boys. John was in and out of the house, either for work or pilfering the bars, but he made time to kiss his wife hello and let his two boys run and jump on him in a dog pile, wrestling until he made time to grab Annabeth from her swing and pepper her tiny face with kisses._

_The Winchester family had a newly rendered tradition, something they had started the year Sammy was born for Halloween. Dean had strutted down the sidewalk, his hair perfectly gelled with a leather jacket on his shoulders. He was Danny Zuko, and proudly so. Sammy was wearing a leather jacket, too; John had to find it specially made for a baby, and his short hair was lightly combed to the side. Mary and him couldn't decide whether Sam was Kenickie or Sonny. The next year they were Batman and Robin. And when their sister was born the next year on February 14th, 1985, the three of them were dressed as Alvin and the Chipmunks, Dean pushing Sam's stroller while wearing a giant red sweater with a yellow 'A' stitched onto it, and toddler Sammy was Simon, Mary even going as far as to use masking tape for his fake glasses since he kept trying to take them off. And Annabeth cooed in her father's arms in a green jumper, her blue eyes curious as they walked down their neighborhood, her big brothers begging for candy._

_Sadly, that was the last Halloween celebrated for years and years to come. Annabeth didn't even get to truly experience nor remember it._

_On November 2nd, 1985, after a hard day for John, whose muscles were so sore he could barely walk up the stairs, followed his wife in her nightgown while she balanced six year old Dean on her hip up the stairs toward the bedroom that held Sammy and Annabeth. He could hear Sammy's gurgled cooes, signaling he had yet to fall asleep. Annabeth, whom was only eight months and sixteen days old, was sound asleep in her tiny crib, pink polka-dotted blanket gently laid over her tiny body. Her raven hair stood out to him, just as much as it did the day she was born. She came into the world with a head full of hair, her eyes as blue as ice. Beautiful. Sammy turned his head toward his family as they walked in. He lunged onto his stomach, grunting as he struggled to pick himself up onto his chubby legs. Now that he's learned to walk, that's all he wants to do._

_"No, no, Sammy," Mary giggled fondly, gently shifting him with one hand so he was laying back down. "We're just here to say goodnight, right, Dean?" His big brother nodded enthusiastically, reaching out to pat Sammy's hair the same way his mother was. "Tell him goodnight, Dean."_

_"Goodnight, Sammy," Dean grunts, leaning forward to kiss his head. He smiled. "We'll play pirates in the morning. We'll make Beth walk the plank."_

_"Oh-ho, c'mon, Deany-boy," John interfered with a laugh, taking Dean from his wife's arms, even if his own body protested the weight. He was so tired. "Your sister's gonna have to sit that out. She doesn't need to be walking any plank." While Mary sat with Sam, trying to coax his eyes closed even with the activity going on around him, John held Dean and took him to Annabet_ _h's crib, where she completely ignored her family in favor of slumber. "Say goodnight to your sister, too, and we'll get you to bed."_

_Dean pouted, not tired, but he leaned forward and gently kissed his baby sister's head, too. "Nighty-night, Beth."_

_"Yes, nighty-night, Beth," Mary giggled quietly, approaching them. Sammy had, at last, gone down. She stared down at her baby, smiling wistfully. She ran a finger down her chubby cheeks before turning to her husband and eldest son. "Let's hurry before one of them wake." She took Dean back from John and roamed back down into the hall towards his respective bedroom, knowing the safe way to his bed from practice since all of his toys littered the carpet, making it difficult. John remained in Sam and Beth's room for a few moments, looking over both beds before switching off the light, ensuring their moon night-light was still illuminated, before exiting._

_The day for the Winchesters was finally coming to a close. Sam and Beth were asleep, as was their big brother, Dean, who had his racecar blanket pulled up toward his neck, drool dripping from his lips. Mary had retired to bed, also exhausted from the day. A six-year old, two-year old, and an eighth month old was enough to put her in a collective eight year, eight month coma. She was snoozing as soon as she hit the pillow, her mind drifting into whatever dream it conjured that night._

_She didn't know how long she got to sleep before it was interrupted. She stirred for a moment, scratched her nose, and turned over. Maybe Dean accidentally kicked the wall again. Apparently he was a very active sleeper. She mumbled feebly, pressing her blonde head back into the pillow. She had nearly fallen back asleep when she heard it again. Opening an eye, she saw the baby monitor, something that has remained practically attached to her since Sammy had come into the world, was making noise. It was a whisper. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. She hoped Sam hadn't climbed out of his crib again. He liked to go bother Beth if he was bored._

_Yawning, she stretched and pulled the blankets off of her. She noticed John wasn't beside her. He was probably downstairs again. He liked to watch the network with a beer in hand before he went to bed. It was something of a nightly routine. Shaking her head, she stood and slipped her feet into her slippers, exiting her bedroom toward the baby room. The door was open, as they had left it, and she could see the dim light from their little moon John had nailed to the wall a year before when Sam made it clear he didn't like the dark._

_She peeked in, stumbling for a moment when she saw John's figure standing above Sammy's crib. She glanced from him to Beth's crib. She was still sleeping soundly._

_"What's wrong, John?" she whispered, careful. "Is he hungry?"_

_John barely looked over his shoulder at her. But she could see his eyes in what little light the room provided. He lifted a finger to his lips._

_"Sh," he hissed quietly. She tried not to roll her eyes._

_She snorted, turning away back to the staircase. "Alright." Now that she was up, she needed to find a way to get back down. Warm milk always helped Dean. That was worth a try. Stifling a yawn, she began her descent down the staircase, keeping her hand on the railing to keep herself from tripping. She stopped short when she noticed the light flickering on the first landing. She frowned, lifting a hand to tap against the bulb. It settled after a moment. Shrugging, she continued her way down until she stopped with only three steps to go._

_The television was still on, some news story going on and on about nothing she cared about. The armchair was currently occupied, occupied by John. Mary's blood ran cold. Whipping around to look up the stairs. She could still see the faint shadows of whoever was roaming through Sam and Beth's room._

_"Sammy," she said. "SAMMY! SAMMY! BETH! ANNABETH!" She charged up the stairs, not knowing what she was about to walk in on. But the moment she got back to her children's room, she was suddenly screaming at the top of her lungs, either from pain or blood-curdling fear._

_John grunted, sitting up instantly. His wife's screams didn't relent. Heart suddenly pounding against his chest, he leapt to his feet and toward the stairs. "Mary? MARY! MARY!" He made it to the bedroom, but the screaming had finally stopped. Panting from being suddenly thrust awake to the sounds of his panicky wife, John looked around. The room seemed perfectly alright. Annabeth was babbling, awake. Sam had managed to pull himself up, looking at John curiously as he approached his crib._

_"Hey, Sammy," he greets, lifting a hand to caress his face. "You alright?"_

_Drip. Drip. John turned, confused. Nothing. He felt something hit the top of his head, almost like a raindrop. Finally, he looked up. He shouted in surprise and horror, suddenly falling down into the carpet, his eyes unable to leave his wife, who was pinned to the ceiling with her stomach drenched in blood. Her mouth was open, struggling to breathe as she stared back down at her husband. He didn't have time to react, to jump to his feet and attempt to yank her down, something. Flames burst from the ceiling, engulfing her into the fire and licking at the wooden walls. He needed to go. He needed to get his kids out of there. But Mary..._

_"Daddy! Daddy!" Dean called from the hallway, confused as to what was going on. The fire was spurring on hotter; Sam was crying, reaching for his father. Annabeth was bawling in her crib, not knowing what was going on. John had to act fast. Grunting, he pulled Sam from his crib and raced out into the hall, pushing the toddler into a frantic Dean's arms._

_"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! GO, DEAN, GO!" John practically shoved him toward the stairs, but Dean went, struggling to keep his hold on Sam while John pushed himself back into the room, coughing and sputtering from the black smoke. The fire had nearly reached Annabeth's crib by the time he grabbed her, wrapping her tightly in her blanket and holding her close to keep her from breathing in the fumes as he dashed out again, determined to get out of the house with his daughter alive._

_He had barely reached the front door when the upstairs imploded, breaking in every window they had. He was out on the porch, finally getting to Dean and Sam. He pushed aggressively at his son. "GO, GO, GO!" Dean obliged, panting harshly into the night while John followed, holding Annabeth even tighter to his chest. They had made it. They were alive. John did his part as a father._

_It wasn't long before their destroyed home was surrounded by cop cars, ambulances, and a ruby red firetruck, keeping the hose steady as they put out the flames. They were already looked over; they were fine. Hastily giving them a blanket to share, they returned to get their jobs done, keeping the crowds back that had formed from their neighbors and even residents from three blocks over. John had Annabeth still clutched in his arms. Dean had Sammy in his lap, staring up at what used to be their home with tears in his eyes._

_"Daddy, where's Mommy?" Dean asked._

_John didn't answer. His mind was turning to and fro, trying to make up his mind on what his next move was._

_"Daddy? Is Mommy okay? Dad?"_

_John made up his mind, glaring ahead at the rubble left behind. He knew exactly what he was going to do._


	2. Pilot

** Annabeth Winchester's Point of View **

* * *

Beth always loved Halloween, even if she never truly got to celebrate it. But she still enjoyed watching the old scary films on the many televisions she's gone through, and she especially loves to watch people young and old run around in their costumes, excited for parties or just for something as simple as candy. She was sitting on the back of Baby, watching fondly at the kids that clung to their mother's hands, adorned in their princess and superhero getups, swinging their buckets around. She heard a ding and glanced over her shoulder. Dean was pulling the nozzle from the gas tank, and putting it back. They were officially ready. He dusted himself off and looked up at her. 

He was wearing the usual getup. Red flannel under his signature leather jacket he had snagged from an old honky-tonk bar after the guy lost to Dean's hustle. He had snagged a nice two hundred and the item of clothing. His jeans were lightly stained with oil from how much he's worked on Baby, and his black boots stood out proudly. She much preferred the large sweaters she kept herself cozy in. Well, they were mandatory thanks to their budget, but she loved them anyhow. They were the only clothes Dad could afford, and her jeans were far cleaner in comparison to his or Dean's, as she didn't know the first thing about cars. Her sneakers, as they always were, were left untied. Dean shot her an easy smile, slapping the top of Baby. 

"Let's get. We're burnin' daylight," he orders, unlocking the driver's side door. Beth hummed, glancing down toward the sidewalk again. A tiny _Harry Potter_ was swinging around a wand and a giant pillow case for his candy, talking his mother and father's ear off about the candy he had taken from Mrs. What's-her-name's home. Beth smiled appreciatively, swinging her legs around and stepping down. Her hair, which was now reaching her lower back, swung and momentarily hid her face. Pulling it back with a hand, she pinned it behind her ear, moving to the passenger side and slipping in. 

"Still think this is a bad idea," she mumbles when Dean slides in, shutting the door and shoving his keys into the ignition. "He's gonna say no, so it's just a waste of time. I'm tellin' you, with just you and I? We'll find Dad faster than we'll take on this stupid detour." Dean was pulling out the map he had stashed in the glove compartment. Beth moved, so he'd have more room. He opened it up, running his finger over a path and mumbling to himself, seemingly ignoring Beth until he folded it back up, put it back in the glove compartment, and put Baby in drive. He gently pressed on the gas, pulling them out of the store's parking lot. 

"Sammy deserves to know about Dad. And he won't say no," Dean said, not looking at Beth as he eyed the road, looking for his open shot before pulling them back out onto the road onto the necessary route to find Sam. Samuel. Sammy. Sammitch. Whatever the hell he went by now. The last image Beth had of him... She shook her head, sinking lower into the passenger seat. Dean glanced at her. He sighed, taking one hand from the ear to gingerly pat her head, a habit he's yet to grow out of. For as long as Beth could remember, when Dean sensed uneasiness in his sister, even the slightest hint at discomfort, he'd pat a hand gently across her head, a subtle signal that he wasn't ignoring her feelings, he knew exactly how she was feeling. She used to hate it, claiming he was messing up her hair or that she was unbothered, so it was pointless. But it was a motion she didn't reject right now. "He's gonna be really happy to see you, squirt."

"Well, that makes one of us."

"Stop it." The patting stopped. "Look...whatever you're thinkin' right now, whatever you're feelin' like saying to him, get it out now. Whether you like it or not, we need Sammy, and I won't let you chase him off with all that teenage angst just because you wanna pout. C'mon, out with it." 

Beth rolled her eyes. She grunts and sits up straighter, toying with the bottom of her sweater, flicking her index finger against a stray thread. She ignores him for a moment, instead focused on the thread, pulling it and stopping once she realized it was too long, and it would destroy the material. She could feel her brother's eyes on her. She wasn't getting out of this, no matter how she tried. And, normally, Beth was the most stubborn person she ever knew. 

"I just...look, Dean, you know I've missed Sam like hell. Like hell," Beth paused for a moment, breathing in deeply to keep her anger under control. She was often described to be an impulsive person, most of the time by Sam himself when he was actually around. It made it difficult on hunts. She was the type to shoot first and ask questions later. This mentality often shaped her emotions, too. When she was angry, she just wanted to blow up, to scream out all of her feelings until her voice was hoarse, without thinking of the consequences or even be willing to hear the other side. She continued, keeping her breathing as even as she could, "but he made his choice. He didn't want us. He wanted...he wanted white picket fences, a wife to come home to, and...the blissful ignorance. And you know what? I get it. That life sounds so much more...secure, you know? But I know where my place is. Where yours is. Hell, where Dad's is. Why the hell do we need Sam? He made his bed, so we should just let him lie in it." 

Dean stiffened visibly, as he always did when anyone said something offensive about Sam or herself. They were his kryptonite. The fact Sam still was both warmed and made her heart sore. She huffed, shaking her head and looking out the passenger side window, knowing exactly what was coming. She just had to brace herself for it. 

"He...Sam..." Dean started off weakly, trying to formulate an argument that wouldn't outright be biased. Beth understood he loved her. He would die for her without hesitation and vice versa, but that hole in him couldn't be filled by their hunts, by their shared laughter, or their singing bashes in Baby to whatever song the Led Zeppelin cassette tape conjured up. Dean needed Sam, he truly did. And you know what? Beth did, too. But at least she was trying to wean off of that. He never could. "This isn't about you or me. It's not even about Sam. It's about finding Dad. He, at least, deserves to know what's going on."

"Yeah, why not add salt to the burn with him shoving the door in our face when we tell him?" Beth said sarcastically, yelping when Dean slapped her upside the head. "Alright, alright! I'll stop. Yeesh. See the humor in it, why don't you?" Dean smiled for the first time, finally returning both of his hands to the wheel. The radio, which was a dull hum so they could talk, was playing _Good Times Bad Times_. Beth smiled, lifting a hand to turn up the volume, before she rolled her window down halfway, leaning onto the side of the car as she let the music take her nerves away. Dean and her bobbed their heads to the music, no longer arguing about Sam and Dad. For now, they just listened, not to each other, but to the lyrics that managed to help them cope with these brand new nerves. 

* * *

"Why can't I go in with you?" Beth asked, jerking on the door again. Dean had it locked, even from the inside. She wondered if he had slipped on the child safety lock while he was pumping gas, knowing she was well enough distracted by those in their costumes. Halloween was officially over, unfortunately. While they had drove, they passed by every possible neighborhood that was rampant with trick-or-treaters. The lights, the decorations, all of it intoxicated Beth. But it had come to a close a little over an hour ago. Here, everything seemed dead, or as dead as it could get. 

The only source of light were the streetlights lined up down the block. And even then, half of them were blown out. 

Dean had managed to snatch the necessary address for Sam's apartment by pilfering through the student records before they went back off of Stanford's campus to find him. It was so much more exciting there. Sorority and fraternities were having a blast with their Halloween parties. And, of course, Sam wasn't attending. Even without the heavy shouldered pain of being a hunter, he was still as un-fun as he could get. 

Now that they were here, Beth was most anxious to see her brother, even if she was still most furious with him. She wondered if he'd gotten any taller. Maybe he cut his hair. Maybe he had just a few pictures up of herself, Dean, and Dad. But Dean was making it abundantly clear Beth wasn't going into that apartment to see him. She jerked even angrier on the door. 

"Dean!"

"Sh!" he hissed, pressing a finger to his lips. "Just...wait here! I'll bring him out."

"What the hell? What about me? This isn't funny!"

"Do you see me laughing?" he whispered back, slowly backing away toward the apartment. 

"Dean, God damn it!" Beth whisper-yelled, absolutely pissed. She jerked at the door handle again as he disappeared off into the darkness, making his way toward the apartment building where Sam was. Beth sent a long rant filled with every curse word she knew, slumping down in her seat with her arms childishly crossed. The worst part was that Dean didn't even explain why he was excluding her. Beth tried to conjure up a bunch of reasons as to why, but she came up short. It could be because Dean was fearful Beth would say something she didn't mean. Maybe their heart-to-heart on the way here did nothing to settle Dean's nerves that she would offend Sam so much he'd refuse to come. Or maybe it stemmed back to the fact Beth was a kick-ass hunter, but when it came to stealth, she was the absolute worst. It didn't help that she never tied her shoes. 

The night was unbelievably chilly. Autumn was at its all time high. While this season was Beth's favorite, she could never quite nail down the necessary wardrobe to survive in such a climate. Despite her sweater size, the material was not thick enough to keep her warm. She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms. She wished Dean had left the keys with her so she could toy with the radio. This dead silence was putting her on edge. Experimentally, she opened up the glove compartment, relieved to see a pistol inside. Dean was always prepared. She shut it back and slumped further down in her seat, only the top of her head visible from the outside. 

She wondered what Sam would look like. Maybe he dressed more like one of those fraternity dudes with polo shirts, capris pants, with a shirt pocket stitched on for his pens and pencils. Or maybe he turned into one of the alternative types she and Dean would often make fun of when they were out to eat. Jesus. Sam was about to be back with them. Her big brother, the one she had spent four years resenting and loathing for leaving, was about to be reunited with them, doubtfully with open arms, but she'd actually see him in the flesh. 

Beth understood Dean sometimes drove up to Stanford's campus when they had a hunt that was around this town. He'd go and check in on his little brother, still so consumed with the idea that this was all some kind of phase and he'd be back to hunting in no time. Their father always turned down that idea. When the fight happened on the last night, Dad told him to not come back if he walked out that door. And he never did. Here they were dragging him back into the same Impala. But this was for Dad. Any animosity should be left out the door. 

Beth didn't know how long she was sitting there, tapping her foot rapidly on the floorboards as she hummed to herself. She had debated many times at just shattering the passenger window and opening the car that way, but she knew Dean would drop everything just to take her out for damaging his precious Baby. Beth shuddered as she remembered what happened that time she had spilled hot chocolate all over the front seat. She had to spend seven straight hours cleaning up her mess, all the while trying to console Dean. Mysteriously, that was the same day her bags were found in the motel pool. When Beth confronted Dean on the subject, he just denied vehemently that he had anything to do with it. 

She could hear voices approaching. Beth's eyes widened and she sat up immediately. She was far too enthusiastic, however, and she ended up hitting the top of her head on the roof of Baby. She hissed in pain, rubbing the soreness with a tender hand. She turned towards the window, feeling her heartbeat quicken when she saw Dean was joined by a familiar figure. It was Sam. It was really Sam. 

He was still taller than Dean, but he was far lankier in comparison. His hair was shaggy and long, gingerly covering his forehead and standing up at odd angles. Beth could only assume he just woke up. He looked like he had hastily gotten dressed just to join Dean outside. He did not look at all happy. They were talking in hushed voices. Beth could only hear them when they got within ten feet of the Impala. 

"So, what are you gonna do?" Dean asked, his tone exasperated. "You're just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?" 

"No, not normal. Safe," Sam said firmly. His voice had gotten deeper, too, Beth noticed. Her brother had grown up without her and Dean just fine. That shouldn't hurt as much as it does. 

"And that's why you ran away," Dean said, stopping in his tracks. Sam still hasn't noticed Beth in the car.

"I was just going to college," Sam said defensively, "It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well...look, man, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it," Dean said. He looked up at Sam, now appearing more desperate, an expression he's never, ever shown Beth. Because he never had to plead with her to do anything. He was her big brother, and that was enough. If he told her to go searching for Dad all by herself, she wouldn't hesitate. But Sam always had to be so freaking difficult. It was severely annoying. "We can't do this alone."

Sam suddenly appeared confused. "We?"

Dean looked over at Beth, his mouth slightly twitching into a smile. Sam followed his gaze apprehensively, his eyes meeting Beth's at last. Beth felt herself freeze. Sam breathed out in shock, clutching the front of his jacket reflexively. Finally, he broke off at a run, ripping open the door and practically yanking Beth out from her seat, throwing his arms around her in a tight hug Beth didn't expect. She didn't hug back at first. She didn't want to. Truly, she didn't. All of her initial anger quickly rushed to the top and bubbled over, but she couldn't help wrapping her arms tightly around him, too, welcoming him back. This was her brother. And clearly he held no qualms with her being here. 

"Hey," Sam chuckled as a greeting, at last letting her go. "God...look how big you've gotten."

"Uh...ditto," Beth replied weakly, now so unsure of herself. On the way here she'd envisioned every kind of introduction she'd have with him. The long vent on how he ruined her life by leaving. Or the version where she cries and guilts him for leaving. Or her least favorite where she stops being such a brat and just takes this chance to truly reunite with her big brother because leaving really wasn't personal. 

"So you...you and Dean have been...?"

"Working our asses off to keep people safe? Damn straight." Beth said, closing the door behind her and leaning coyly across Baby, trying to regain her lost composure. "It's been one long montage of kill or be killed and me saving Dean's ass more times than I can count." Dean's face dropped, and he sent Beth a, rather, annoyed look, but she just raised her eyebrows playfully before looking back at Sam. "Four years is a long time, Sammy. Couldn't just wait idly by for you to suddenly call us up once you realized this apple pie life wasn't all it's cracked up to be." Okay, admittedly, that was a bit of a low blow, but she owed him one. And she already hugged him. That was enough for tip-toeing the line of obligations. Sam flinched; perhaps he expected such behavior from Dean, but from his baby sister? 

Growing up, Annabeth was perfectly divided. On one hand, she was rough, tough, and always ready for a good brawl. She was courageous, and never turned down a fight. Like Dean, she was completely impulsive and shot first, asked questions later. On the other hand, she was compassionate, willing to compromise, and she could almost be regarded as, well, sweet, just like her big brother Sam. Sam babied her a lot growing up, especially when the two of them were left behind while Dad and Dean ran off hunting whatever had blown through town. At that time, Dad decided Sammy was old enough to be the babysitter for a change, so they lost Dean momentarily so he could become a better hunter. 

Sam happily cooked, cleaned, and watched all those frilly, feminine television shows that made most prepubescent boys want to vomit from the sheer disgust of it. But it was all for Beth. But he left when she was sixteen, on the brink of becoming a junior in high school. Four years without Sam meant four years totally and wholeheartedly with Dean. And as impressionable as Beth was, she was now the spitting image of him. Sam hardly recognized her, Beth could tell. And that was a quality she was quite proud of. 

"Alright, simmer down, Beth, before you break a nail," Dean said jokingly, but his face said otherwise. One look and Beth shut her mouth, no longer taking shots. Dean wanted Sam to join them, and she needed to help make that happen. "So, Sammy...what's it gonna be? We can't do this without you. And inside that Stanford head of yours, you know it's true. Plus, you can help me keep this one in line." Dean appeared in front of Sam's field of vision, gingerly patting Beth on the head again. She had half a mind to turn and bite his hand, but the situation was far too serious for that. She looked up at Sam tentatively, her blue eyes almost pleading. _Almost_.

Alright, alright! Sue her for wanting to be with her big brother again. The thought of going on a hunt with just Sam and Dean was almost like a dream come true. The three Winchester siblings, back together again. And, this time, it wouldn't be with Dad hiding in the shadows, ready to break them down and critique them on everything that went wrong with the hunt. Instead, they were going to find him, and maybe, Sam and Dad could work things out and Sam could come home with them. What did he have that was tying him down here, anyway? Dean always told her that college is for chumps. 

"What...what was Dad hunting?" Sam asked at last. Beth couldn't help herself. She yipped excitedly with a skip in her step, practically yanking Sam by his jacket sleeve to the trunk. Dean chuckled, following. This was going much better than he had probably expected, save for the little quip she sent at Sam. No matter how big the front she was putting up, she wanted him back just as much as he did. Dean circled around his younger siblings in order to pop the trunk, lifting it above their heads and holding it up with the same rifle he always did. Beth made a snatch for a flashlight stuck to the side, fiddling with the switch before pointing it in the trunk so he'd have a better chance at finding what he was looking for. 

Sam peered curiously over their shoulders. While he's been in this trunk more times than he's been in a stable home, it was still probably a fresh sight. It's been four years after all.

"Alright, let's see...where did I put that thing?" Dean mumbled to himself, pulling up the barrier to get to the weapons, but a gun was definitely not what he was looking for. "Beth, keep the light steady." Beth apologized, holding it slightly above her head just before Sam took it from her, giving her what seemed to be an affectionate smile, before using his superior height for the light to shine above. Beth smiled back. This was definitely not what she was expecting. She was almost...giddy with excitement. Sam was back, officially so. She just knew it. 

"So...when Dad left, why didn't you guys just go with him?" Sam asked. 

"Workin' our own gig down in Louisiana. Voodoo thing down in New Orleans," Dean said, still distracted with finding the thing. 

Sam's eyes widened comically. He looked from Dean to Beth, who was smirking smugly with her arms crossed. 

"Dad let you guys go on a hunting trip by yourselves?" he asked incredulously. 

"I'm twenty-six, dude. She's twenty. Not like we were pullin' up any pampers. At least I wasn't," Dean grinned, laughing when Beth shoved at him. 

"And anyway, I was the one kickin' ass down there while Dean was basically the getaway driver," Beth declared, moving back when Dean, at last, found what he was looking for. He pulled out a large manila folder, fishing out the papers inside and handing one to Sam. 

"They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA," Dean explained while Sam read over the paper, eyes rapidly following the words on the page. Beth had practically read it a thousand times before they buckled up in Baby to come searching for Sam. The one Sam had was for Andrew Carey. 

"So maybe he was kidnapped," Sam said, looking up at them. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," Beth said, nodding to Dean to hand him the others. 

"Here's another one in April. Another one in December '04, '03, '98, and good 'ol '92. Ten of them over the past ten years," Dean said, pointing at each man smiling up at Sam, probably completely unaware they had missing posters in the first place. "All men. All the five-mile stretch of road." Dean suddenly elbowed Beth in the side and subtly nodded to the trunk again, pointing at the small bag packed into their arsenal. She sent him a scowl before pulling it out. 

"Once it started happenin' more often, Dad went to dig around. That was about...one, two...three weeks ago? We haven't heard from him since. Which is bad enough," Beth said, opening up the bag and holding it out for Dean. Dean dug inside for a moment before retrieving a tiny tape recorder. "Then Dean got this voicemail yesterday. Listen to this." 

Dean pressed the tiny play button, and instantly the three of them went silent to hear, exaggeratingly leaning forward with their ears held out to hear better, despite Dean and Beth having already heard it. 

"Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try to figure out what's going on," Dad's voice came out a gargled mess on the playback; it was nearly too difficult to decipher. "It may... Be very careful, Dean. ....watch out for your sister. We're all in danger."

The recording stopped.

"You know there's EVP on that?" Sam asked curiously. 

Dean practically swelled with pride. "Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. Beth giggled. 

"Al...Alright," Dean said after a moment of rewinding the tape and fiddling with the buttons. "I slowed the message down. I ran it through the gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." He held the tape recorder out again. Sam leaned forward, his face scrunched up in blatant curiosity and determination to figure out what the hell was going on. 

The tape recorder was silent with nothing but static before a faint, feminine voice whispered in such a melancholy tone it made goosebumps run down Beth's back, " _I can never go home._ " Dean pressed stop, looking up at Sam with a large grin. 

"Never go home," Sam repeated. Dean nods and drops the recorder back in the bag. Beth zips it back up and dumps it back in the trunk before removing the shotgun keeping it open and slamming it closed. She turned and hopped up on the back of it, allowing her legs to swing free, nearly catching Dean if he hadn't jumped out of the way in time. 

"You know," Dean said after taking a moment to scowl at Beth. "Neither of us have bothered you for nearly...two years. Never asked you for a thing."

Sam looks away and sighs deeply. He looked back up at his home, shuffling awkwardly. Then, he turned back to his siblings, shoulders slumped in defeat. "Alright. Alright...I'll go. I'll help you guys find him." Beth squealed in delight, throwing herself off of the trunk to throw her arms around him, a very much out-of-character action for her, but she was in this deep. She had her big brother back. He was gone for four years, and now he was standing here before her, ready to jump back into Baby and go hunting again. He grunted from the impact, but weirdly enough, he didn't hug back. "But...I have to get back first thing Monday."

Beth immediately released him, stumbling backward. Dean quickly caught her by the shoulders, steadying her. 

"Get back? What...what do you mean?" Beth asked, confused. 

Sam appeared slightly awkward. He looked over her shoulder at Dean, hoping he'd help. 

"Oh, no, man. This is your problem," Dean quickly denied him.

"I have...I have an interview on Monday. Jess has been helping me prepare. It's a really big deal for me," Sam said, still glowering at Dean, even though he was speaking directly to Beth. 

"Jess? Who the hell is Jess?"

"His girlfriend," Dean interjected. "His very hot girlfriend, might I add. Totally out of his league." Sam glared even harder. 

"So wait a minute, wait a minute...you're coming back? You're just gonna help us find Dad, and what? Jump ship again? Are you serious?" Beth asked, her voice becoming more and more high pitched, a sign she was getting more and more angry. 

"I never said this was going to be a permanent thing. I don't want to leave Stanford. I want to stay here, with Jess, but I'm not just gonna abandon you guys to find Dad. That's not what I want," Sam said, trying to defend himself. Beth scoffed, smiling sarcastically. "Annabeth, I'm sorry. I am, really, but...this is my choice. And I'm not going back on it." He looked back to Dean, before meeting her eyes once more. "I'll go pack a bag." Shoving his hands in his pockets, a tell-tale sign he was uncomfortable, he turned and began walking back to his apartment complex. Beth watched him, slowly shaking her head before she whipped around to Dean. 

"You knew he wasn't coming with us for good," she said. 

"I did, but it's not like I'm on board for it either. I'm just as pissed as you are," Dean said, crossing his arms. "But like you said earlier. He made his bed, and he's sure as hell going to lie in it." 

Beth wiped away the gathering tears angrily. "Yeah, well...I should've known. Too good to be true. What a joke. I knew coming here was a mistake."

"Look, just...try not to piss him off, please? Let's just find Dad. Who knows? Maybe he'll change his mind. Convince that hot girlfriend of his to travel with us," Dean tried to bring humor into the situation, but Beth wasn't having it. She sniffed and stomped toward the back of the Impala, crawling in. Sam would have to take the passenger seat; he was too tall to sit in the back. Plus, Beth really just wanted to be by herself for a minute.

Before she could close the door, Dean leaned inside, lifting his hand once more and patting her thrice on her head. He wasn't ignoring her feelings. 


	3. Pilot

** Annabeth Winchester's Point of View **

* * *

It was relatively quiet when Sam came back down the parking lot towards the Impala, a duffel bag tossed clumsily over his shoulder. He was staring at his feet, looking quite troubled. Dean was taking this far easier than she was, waving merrily at Sam before crawling into the driver's seat and starting the car. Sam paused at the back seat, not expecting Beth to be back there, giving up the front seat so easily. Beth remembered often fighting him and Dean to sit up front with Dad, even going as far as to wrestle, but she followed logic over personal pride for now, and this made it much easier to glare at the back of his head instead of relying on the pain of looking over her shoulder and doing it instead. 

Once they were on the road and Dean had popped in a different cassette tape, it was slightly better. Beth didn't quite feel like her ignoring was too loud. Plus, none of them really talked anyway. Dean and Sam occasionally exchanged a few words, but other than that it was silent. Dean was following the route he had marked on the map in search of the case Dad had gone on. It was a good ways away, so they wouldn't arrive until tomorrow. Beth really should get some sleep. She unbuckled her seatbelt, kicked off her untied shoes, pulled her arms from her sweater sleeves so they could curl around her underneath the material instead, and she laid across the backseat with her eyes closed. 

Dean must've noticed, because she heard him shuffle around in the front seat for a moment before draping his leather jacket over her. She tried not to smile. If he knew she was awake, he'd probably push her off the seat to mask the sentimentality he was currently displaying for her. Dean wasn't the most affectionate brother, but he tried if he knew nobody was watching. 

"How has she been?" she heard Sam ask. They must think she's asleep. Good. 

"Pretty good. Like she said earlier, she's been kickin' some serious ass. Dad's been on her case a lot more after high school; he worries about her a lot. It's one thing bein' a hunter, man. It's another bein' a female hunter," Dean answered. Beth could hear the music dull down, which meant he or Sam had decided to turn it down to hear each other better. Sleep was calling for her, but she fought to stay awake, to hear what they would say if they thought she couldn't hear. "She's my one consistent thing, I'll tell ya that. Beth's a goddamn pest, but I wouldn't have made it these past few years without her. Did ya know she took out a poltergeist all on her own? I accidentally got a concussion halfway through. Had to stay bedridden, and she took care of it. I was beyond pissed, but damn it if I wasn't proud."

Beth heard Sam chuckle. There was a long pause. She almost nearly dozed off until she heard Sam break the silence, "Does she hate me?" 

"C'mon, man," Dean scoffs. 

"I'm serious." 

Dean sighs. Beth fought off sleep as best as she could. What the hell was he going to say? She had half a mind to jump up and scare the hell out of the both of them if he said the wrong thing, but she was growing more and more tired. _No! Just a little longer. C'mon, you stayed up for nearly three days that one time at the arcade. Granted, you got kicked out for stinking up the place, and you nearly got your ass handed to you by Dean and Dad for not checking in, but you got that high score, didn't you? Didn't you, Annabeth?_

"Of course she doesn't hate you, man," Dean says. "She could never hate you. Can't blame her for being pissed, though. She didn't even wanna get you. Look, whatever way you wanna twist this situation for what better future you've been craving since you could walk and talk, you still left us. Left Dad. Left her. Left me. It's been four years without you. A lot's happened and changed."

"Think she'll forgive me before I go back Monday?"

"Ask me again tomorrow."

Suddenly, the music had turned up again, but it was an instrumental version Dean insisted on including. It helped him think, he would tell Beth. The beats were lulling Beth to sleep. She wouldn't miss much else. They were clearly done talking about her. She mumbled quietly to herself, her mind swimming with this brand new information. Sam was fearful that she hated him. Dean did his best to curb that fear, but Beth was sure it would take more than that encouragement for someone like Sam. He'd need to hear it personally from Beth's lips, but right now if she talked to him, she'd result in yelling her head off on how much he hurt her and how much worse it is that he came with them now because he had no intention in remaining. 

Beth had no obligation to make him feel better because he was clearly not attempting to do the same in return. 

* * *

Her face felt like something was crawling on it. A feather-light touch. She grumbled and tried to brush it off, figuring it was just a bug that got in the Impala. It stopped. Sighing, she curled up again, trying to fall back asleep. The feather-light touch started again, making her grunt and try to brush it off, scratching where it was making her itch. It resumed once more. She yelled out in annoyance, aggressively slapping her cheek and taking in the sudden sting with chagrin. Her blue eyes flew open, and she looked up to see her eldest brother laughing himself silly in the front seat, a line of thread hanging off his finger tips. Sam was beside him, and he wasn't laughing, but he was still smiling humorously. 

"Dean, you ass-face. What are you doing?" Beth whines, slipping her arms back into her sleeves and slowly sitting up. Dean was suddenly laughing harder, pounding on the steering wheel. Beth was confused until she caught side of herself in the mirror hanging above the dashboard. She must've moved around a lot in her sleep like she always did. She was a restless sleeper, hence why neither of her brothers enjoyed sharing a bed with her growing up. Her hair was matted and tangled up, making her resemble a hag. She gasped scathingly and suddenly ripped out her duffel bag from underneath the seats, unzipping it to retrieve her hairbrush. 

"Looks like you're up," Sam said, a chortle in his tone. 

"You look like utter-"

"Shut up," Beth snapped, taking one of her clean socks from her bag, balling it up, and throwing it at Dean's face. _He_ didn't know it was clean, however, and he made a sound that resembled both a cry for help and a disgusted snarl. Beth hid her smile. This time Sam did laugh. He pointed at Dean childishly and laughed. Beth took that time to work through the many tangles she had, eventually managing to calm down her mane enough to pull it back with a spare hair tie. "Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Stopped for gas," Dean said, picking up the sock with only his thumb and index finger, as if it were coated in some kind of radioactive goo that would infect him if he touched it anymore than he already was. He tossed it back to her; she caught it with ease, putting it back in her bag and shoving it back underneath her seats. She finally took the opportunity to peek out of the windows to see where they were. The Impala was stopped, obviously. This gas station was incredibly small with black, antique looking tanks with signs protruding from the top with big, black letters in bold saying, 'GAS'. "Wanna go inside and grab us some grub?"

"Can I-?"

"Yeah, yeah, just don't get any on my seats or I hang you outside of Baby by your hair," Dean threatened, digging around in his pockets before taking out his wallet and tossing it to her. "Want anything, Sammy?"

"I'll pass," Sam said. 

"I'll just find something y'all like," Beth grins, opening the door and practically skipping inside. 

It smelled like cigarettes and strawberries, a terrible combination. The small aisles of food all had no big name brands, and the freezers were stocked up with things she never even heard of. The counter was off to the right side of the entrance, and the man sitting behind it was rifling through a newspaper, the silver of his hair peeking over the top. Beth whistled nonchalantly, going through each aisle and grabbing anything that looked edible. Hot chips, barbecue chips, chewy candy, and even a bag of beef jerky that made her mouth water. 

But what she really had her eyes on was in the back freezers. She passed by the generic sodas, the waters, before she finally ended up in front of the energy drinks. These have become an unhealthy addiction for her. Dean tried to slow her down at first, but when he found cans hidden in her bag, he decided to just let her do what she wants and hope whatever happens, she learns her lesson the hard way. She looked over all of the flavors, each one more fruity or more tangy until she settled on a blueberry one. She opened the freezer, grabbed two, before taking all she had to the front counter, clearing her thrown at the silver haired man until he put his newspaper down. 

"Sorry, sorry," he grunts(he didn't sound sorry at all). He pushed his black rimmed glasses up on his hooked nose, looking down at all the items she had placed on the counter and began to scan and put them in a plastic bag. "Sure you got everything you wanted? Last day of your diet or somethin'?"

Beth's smile twitched uncomfortably. "No, just my last meal before I take the final plunge tonight." 

The man stared at her uncomfortably. He said nothing as he rang her up; she handed him one of the blue credit cards Dean had applied for. He still wouldn't let her try it; he thinks it's better if he and Dad get caught for fraud, so she could eventually bail them out. Whatever. The man handed Beth her things and she shot him a grin before walking out and seeing Dean was pumping gas. Jeez, how far did they drive last night? Didn't he get gas before they got to Stanford?

"Breakfast?" Beth called. 

"What ya got?" Dean asked, leaving the nozzle attached to Baby as he peered down in the bag. He snatched out the barbecue chips, making his claim. "Ask Sam."

Beth frowns. "He said he wasn't hungry."

Dean looked at her sternly. "Ask Sammy, Annabeth." Full name. Oh, boy. 

Beth rolled her eyes childishly and looked toward the passenger side. Sam had his door open, lazily resting his legs on the concrete with a box on his lap. Cassette tapes took up every the inside, all sloppily labeled by Dean or Dad, and Sam was looking at each of the titles, obvious distaste in his expression. He looked up at Beth as she got closer. He offered her a smile. 

"Want some breakfast?" She held the bag toward him so he could look inside and take his pick. 

"Uh...I'm good," he said, observing the contents feebly. "Um...how'd you pay for that stuff?"

Beth didn't answer. Instead, she offered a guilty smile, slipped Dean's wallet from her pocket and tossed it back to him over her shoulder. He caught it without even having to look up. Beth always prided herself with how in sync they were. 

"You're still running credit card scams?" Sam asked, sounding disapproving. Beth was grateful no one was around to overhear their conversation. 

"Hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career." Dean said, grabbing the receipt that popped out of the tiny slit. "'Sides, all we do is apply. Not our fault they send us the cards."

"What names did you guys write on the application this time?"

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Dean answered, taking out the nozzle once the Impala was full. 

"Don't forget his son, Hector. You both managed to score two cards out of that deal. Still think Jane would've been a nice addition to the Aframian family, though," Beth pointed out, taking out her energy drink and popping the top. She took a long sip; it was strong, she could tell. She would be buzzing in the back seat in no time. Sleep was overrated anyway. Her hair always fell victim to her unconsciousness. 

"We'll save Jane for a rainy day," Dean gave an empty promise, ripping open his chips and popping several into his mouth.

"Dude," Sam said, making both of them turn; he was still going through the box. "You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

"Uh-oh. Those are famous last words," Beth grinned, taking another gulp before opening the back door and slipping inside. She set the bag aside and propped up her drink up on the back of her seat, buckled herself up, and sat back with her can to watch the fireworks.

"Why do I need to update it?" Dean asked testily, climbing into the driver's seat, crinkling up his empty chip bag. 

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two," Sam pauses, picking one up with the title in permanent ink facing Dean, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" Dean huffs and takes the Metallica tape from Sam's hands. Beth was smiling giddily in the back. While she was partial to that type of music as well, she never took it as personally as Dean when others were clearly ahead in the times. She liked a bit of country, too. But she knew Dean would set any cassette tape on fire that had any words relating to Tim McGraw or Jimmy Wayne. 

"It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," Sam insults, breaking Beth's train of thought. 

"Well, house rules, Sammy. Beth, care to take care of this?"

"Gladly," Beth grins, leaning forward in her seat. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Sam scowls. "What's the house rules for back seat riders?"

"They have closer access to what's in our trunk," Beth smirks, waggling her eyebrows, before sitting back. Dean threw his head back and laughed, slipping the Metallica tape into the cassette player and blasting the volume. He started Baby up and took off back down the road. 

* * *

They had passed the green sign with 'JERICHO 7' painted on it in white. They were getting closer. Beth had already finished her first can and was going through the beef jerky bag like it was candy. Her breath was totally going to reek. Sam was currently on his third phone call in search of their father in the stereotypical places anyone would end up if they were in trouble. Hospitals, morgues, occasionally the bar, the usual. 

"Thank you," Sam said, at last hanging up. 

Beth leaned forward in her seat. "Well?"

Sam grimaced. "Dude, you need to brush your teeth."

"Is it that bad?"

"Yes, get-" Dean paused, using his free hand to shove at her forehead so she was forced back into her seat, "-back! But, seriously, well?"

"Well, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or the morgue," Sam shrugs, sounding both relieved and exasperated. 

"Could mean he already blew this hotdog stand, right?" Beth asked, remaining in her seat to avoid being pushed again. 

"Maybe, but we need to check every corner of..." Dean trailed off, making the turn onto the road leading up to a bridge, which was littered with cop cars and ambulances, all with their sirens flashing. "Hey, check this out." As if they could do anything different. Beth couldn't help herself. She leaned forward in her seat, making sure she was breathing in and out through her nose. She stared in bewilderment at all of the activity. Something had definitely went down here.

Dean parked a couple of feet away and leaned over Sam, opening the glove compartment and pulling out a familiar black box from inside. Sam peered curiously over his shoulder as he propped it open and started fishing through the many IDs that had his, Beth, and their father's face looking back at him. He grabbed one for himself and one for Beth, handing her hers, before closing it and putting it back into the glove compartment. Sam looked flabbergasted. 

"Let's go," Beth said after admiring her picture. When they had first started working on these, she had fixed her make-up so she looked a few years older. Some of the guys had issues because she looked so young, and she often almost blew their covers because of it. Her father would get mad at her as though it were her fault she was still twenty. They all stepped out, Dean taking the automatic lead on approaching the scene.

"You look like you're fourteen," Sam hissed, grabbing her arm and stopping her from following him. "You're wearing a sweater with a rainbow on it."

"Don't judge," Beth hissed back, swatting angrily at his hand. They continued to bicker quietly as they followed their big brother. 

They could see one of the officers, who appeared to be the one in charge of the crime scene, speaking to a man who looked absolutely distressed. He was wringing his hands to and fro, sweat pooling down his face as though they were in the south, but the weather called for jackets. He didn't look guilty, just stressed out. 

"...she's hanging up posters downtown," is all Beth caught as they approached. She was still arguing under her breath with Sam, only stopping when Dean made a jab with his elbow into hers and Sam's ribs in an attempt to shut them up. He was smiling coolly up at the officer, who surveyed them all apprehensively. 

"You fellas just had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" 

"And who are you?" the officer asked. 

"Federal marshals," Dean stated proudly, flashing him his badge. Beth did the same, holding hers proudly. She noticed the officer look pointedly on the rainbow on her sweater. Okay, perhaps Sam was right. 

"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" 

"I wouldn't say that around my partner here," Dean said, jerking his head to Beth. "She's a spitfire. Our team's best. But it's awful kind of you to point that out." Beth smirked proudly, harrumphing childishly as she glanced up at Sam, whom rolled his eyes. 

"You did have another one like this, though, correct?" she asked, turning back to the officer. 

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that." Yikes. 

"So, this victim," Sam began, speaking up for the first time, "you knew him?"

He nods. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody." 

Beth nods along, turning and circling around the car, grimacing at the dried blood that littered the inside of the windshield. She peeked around over the leather seats, in search of anything that pointed to what this was. Maybe a vamp, wolf, anything. She ran her finger on the top rim of the vehicle, her nose sniffing curiously for any sign of rotten eggs. 

"Any connections between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Dean continued to question the officer. Beth could see Sam in her peripheral vision watching her carefully as she inspected the vehicle. 

"No, not so far as we can tell."

"So...what's the theory?" Sam asked. 

"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?"

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys," Dean says, his tone light, just before elicits a tiny yelp of pain. Beth looked up. Sam had obviously done something to shut him up as quickly as he could. 

"Thank you for your time!" Sam says, before calling over his shoulder. "Uh...Agent Nathans, let's get a move on!" He was obviously calling for her. Beth rolled her eyes, sat up straight, and began following her brothers back to the Impala. She stopped by the officer to put a hand on his shoulder. 

"We're gonna crack this thing best we can, Officer Jeff."

"Jaffe," he corrected, pointing at his nametag. He sounded rather offended. 

"Yeah, sure, him, too," Beth winks and skitters off after her brothers, who seemed to be arguing. Sam was rubbing his head in slight pain, as though Dean just hit him, which he probably had. 

"Why do you have to talk to police like that?" Sam asked quietly.

"Come on! They don't really know what's going on! We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves. Pretty much a cakewalk for Beth and I. You can just sit there and look pretty while conductin' the research. No biggy!" Dean said casually, as if this was all going to end within the day. Beth sincerely doubted that. She couldn't find much on the vehicle, not even sulfur. 

"Anything's better than just sittin' around and waitin' by the phone," Beth says quietly, looking over her shoulder to be sure they weren't being overheard. 

"Can I help you kids?" 

Beth nearly jumped out of her skin. A man in another police officer had approached them, tailed by two men in black suits and stereotypical sunglasses you would see in the cop shows where they give cheesy lines upon finding a body or culprit. Beth nearly laughed. 

"No, sir, we were just leaving," Dean grinned nonchalantly, subtly waving Sam and Beth to follow him to Baby. He nods to the two agents as they pass them. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully." Beth stifled a laugh. 

With that, the three of them gathered back into Baby to set off to their next destination in search for their father. 


	4. Pilot

** Annabeth Winchester's Point of View **

* * *

Beth should've known this was going to be harder than just waltzing into town and expecting Dad to be sitting at the nearest diner drinking his weight in brewskis that he managed to sneak into his coffee mug. It definitely made it a lot more interesting, though. Beth knew she should be worried sick, left to her thoughts in the back of Baby that something could've seriously gone wrong with her father, but she just couldn't wrap her mind around the fact her father needed any amount of help. He was too proud a man, and Beth can't remember a time where she, nor Dean, and not even Sam had to help him because he was always so secure. Sure, he got himself stuck in situations that could've easily been avoided, but he always got out alright. Beth couldn't help but see this as a joyride with the pleasant surprise of seeing her father at the end, probably ready to curse them all out for not abiding by Dean's voicemail warning, stay back and keep Beth protected. Yeah, right. She didn't need any protection. If anything, Sam did, and this was just an in-n-out situation for him. Although, her father didn't even make any mention of him within the voicemail. 

She turned her head to look at the back of his head. It was tilted in Dean's direction, indicating he was listening to him as he drove. Their childish arguing when happening upon the crime scene was almost...almost like she was reminiscing. They've never hunted this way without supervision, however. Her and Sam, anyway. But the way the three of them immediately jumped into character was like they'd been doing this for years and they didn't just uproot Sammy from his place at college the night before. Jesus, time flew fast. Was it because she wanted him gone quicker so she could hate him from afar? Or was it because she really didn't want him to go so soon? Beth truly couldn't tell, and she wasn't about to dwell on it. She tried to tune back into the conversation, chastising her own mind for getting sidetracked. 

Dean was going on and on about some girl that Officer Jeff-Jaffe-Jeff? Whatever his name was-Dean was telling her and Sam about a girl he and the stressed man were talking about before they interrupted, saying she was the victim's girlfriend. Perfect candidate for questioning. Beth was currently flipping her fake ID open and closed repeatedly while her brothers droned on about what the hell they were dealing with. 

"The windshield was covered in blood, but the body was gone. Hence the water rescue team," Dean listed off the top of his head, putting it all out there so he could work a theory out of it. "Vampires leave drained victims, and wolves just tear them apart, which would give us at least pieces of the kid. And...Beth, sulfur?"

"Not from what I could see," Beth shrugs. "I could've missed it. We did get pulled off a little too soon."

"The actual FBI agents that didn't get their IDs out of a cereal box were pulling in by the time I got you guys out. We'd all be sitting in the back of their cruisers if we hadn't jumped ship so soon," Sam defended himself. "And anyway, them thumbing through the bridge gives us more time with the guy's girlfriend, so we can actually get to the bottom of this before anyone else gets hurt." 

"Yeah, wouldn't want to hurt that pretty little face before your interview on Monday," Beth mumbled. She froze in her seat when she looked up at the rearview mirror and saw Dean giving her a scolding glare, a glare she was quite familiar with because it near perfectly mirrored their father's. She clamped her mouth shut and sat back, crossing her arms. Sam didn't retort. His shoulders just sagged in a way that quite plainly said he was getting sick of the treatment. Beth would feel bad if she wasn't so angry. 

They pulled into town eventually, which seemed rather quaint and small, as the officer had said it was. All the buildings seemed grey and aging, the wooden panels on each shop and office looking as though it were ready to give way. There were more people walking along the sidewalks than in vehicles, hoisting up their paper bags full of groceries or small-town boutique bags that were probably filled with floral monstrosities most big businesses would do their best to avoid. Beth snorted indignantly. She didn't have room to talk. Her sweater did, indeed, have a rainbow on it. And her sneakers were still left untied. 

"Park up there," Sam directed, pointing at an empty space that Dean could squeeze into. He obliged. After turning Baby off, the three of them got out and straightened themselves up. Beth tugged on the hem of her sweater, self conscious for the very first time. She waited for her brothers before they started down the sidewalk. 

"So...what's the girl's name again?" Beth asked, turning to look at them. 

"Amy, I think," Dean said, looking up at Sam, who nodded assuredly. 

"Great, let's hunt her down and see what's up," Beth grins, hands swaying more incessantly at her sides.

"Slow down, tiger," Dean chuckles, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "S'not like this is gonna be an interrogation. We're just gonna ask her a few questions." He began leading her down the sidewalk, passing by depressing looking hair salons, thrift stores, and antique shops. They even passed by a little diner that surprisingly smelled like sweet cinnamon that made Beth's mouth water. Her breakfast was chips, beef jerky, and two energy drinks. She was practically _starving_ by now. 

"Focus," she mumbled to herself, shaking her head feverishly. Dean and Sam exchanged a bemused glance. Dean shook his head with a smile, deciding to ignore it. 

They walked for several minutes, passing by nameless people, all who said the same thing when asked about Amy; she was pinning up posters for her boyfriend. Sure enough, they could see them pinned or taped at random, all with his information posted at the bottom of the page. Beth's stomach churned. From what she saw on the bridge, the photo on the missing posters was probably the final nice look of him. Sam suddenly tapped her and Dean's shoulders, pointing ahead. There was a petite looking girl with dark hair and clothes to match, her skin practically translucent with its paleness. She appeared dressed for the autumn weather, cluttered up with a brown jacket and boots to match with faux fur trim. She was pinning up the same posters they were wandering upon.

"I'll bet you that's her," Dean stated the obvious, grinning smugly. Beth rolled her eyes. 

"Yeah," Sam agreed, sharing a look with Beth. 

They quickened their footsteps, eventually coming upon the girl they assumed to be Amy and intercepting her from joining her companion, who wore even gloomier clothes, but she clutched posters to her chest, too. Dean replaced his inherently curious look for sympathetic. Beth tried her best to mirror it, but it must have come off a little more constipated because Sam winced and moved so he could hide her from view, not wanting to blow their cover, not that Amy was some kind of expert on body language. She just seemed like the type of girl worried for her missing boyfriend. 

"You must be Amy," Dean said, not aware of Sam practically pushing Beth aside.

"Yeah," Amy replied, sparing them only a glance before she continued on her path. She was clearly on a mission, and a trio of strangers weren't about to put her off it. But they continued to follow her anyway, Beth struggling to push herself between Sam and Dean so she could be seen as well, her hair slightly more tussled than before. 

"Troy told us about you," she said a little too quickly. Beth made quick haste to recover, "Um...these are his uncles. I'm his cousin." Might as well lean on the clutch of how she still looked to be in her youth, even if that was the same disadvantage she had when pretending to be an FBI agent. How ironic. "That's Dean and that's Sammy. I'm Annabeth. But just Beth is fine." 

"He never mentioned you to me," Amy scoffed, unimpressed. "And the only cousins he talks to are all younger. Pests, he would call them."

Dean chuckled, quickly taking the reigns. He grabbed Beth by her shoulders and moved her to his other side. She did so with a pout. 

"Well, that's Troy, alright. You see, we're not around much. We're up in Modesto." Dean explained far smoother than she did. Sam patted Beth's shoulder sympathetically. She didn't have time to shrug it off. Plus, now wasn't really a good time for her to still be acting like a brat. 

"So, we're looking for him, too," Sam jumped in, completely unaware of Beth's thought process. "And we're kind of asking around."

By now they had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, the posters slowly slipping from Amy's hands as she looked up at them. She looked both confused and melancholy. She probably wanted to hope they were spouting the truth. Beth imagined it was a big help having someone to speak to on this, more eyes on the prize to have him be discovered. Beth wished at that moment that they really were Troy's uncles and cousin. That would make this situation far less sinful and, well, hurtful. 

The girl Beth had seen walking with Amy was approaching them. She didn't look as hopeful as Amy did. She put her hand on her companion's shoulder. 

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Amy said, sounding slightly distracted. 

"Look, do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions?" Beth decided to stop beating around the bush. She looked as meaningful as she could. 

"Who are these guys, Amy?" the girl scoffed, glaring at Sam and Beth, though her gaze lingered a little longer on Dean. Figures. That was the normal reaction to her eldest brother. 

"They're, um...they're Troy's uncles. That's his cousin. Um...this, this is Rachel," Amy introduced. She looked like she was slowly giving in. She gave a once over of her surroundings before pointing over her shoulder. "Alright, I'll talk, but can we take this back to the diner? I've been on my feet all morning. I haven't slept, so I could use a coffee."

"Sure, that sounds good," Sam smiled. 

Amy nods, grabs Rachel's hand, and leads them back down the path. Beth looked up toward Dean, her eyebrows raising. He gave her a curt nod. He approved of her acting. She didn't know why she felt the need for it. She knew she was good; her arrogance has kept her going a while, but it was always nice to see her brother share the pride. Beth walked a little ahead of Sam and Dean, making sure not to catch the heels of Amy nor Rachel, not noticing Sam and Dean hang slightly back, exchanging hushed words. 

They eventually came back upon the diner that Beth had smelled that sweet cinnamon earlier. She smiled wantonly as Amy opened the door and strode inside, Rachel and them in tow. Beth whipped around, thrusting her index finger into Dean's chest. 

"I am ordering something from here, I don't care what you say. I'm starving," she hisses quietly, threateningly. Dean looked appalled, but he didn't deny her. She smiled sweetly again, whipped around, and walked towards the table that Amy had made claim to, where there was room enough for five. She sat down across from Amy, her brothers sitting beside each other to her right. They probably looked like an odd bunch, but people paid far more attention to their delicious smelling meals. A pretty waitress was flagged down by Amy. 

"Uh, yeah, I'll just take a cup of coffee, Rachel will have a water, and..." She looked awkwardly at the three of them. 

"We'll each have a coffee as well," Sam smiled. 

"And if it won't hurt, could you get me a plate of just scrambled eggs and bacon? Piece of toast. Maybe some extra sausage, too, if you don't mi-OW!" Dean had aimed a kick at her shins, still smiling. She laughed nervously. "Just the eggs and bacon then."

"I'll get that out for y'all in just a moment, then," the waitress smiled, tapping her pen on the little notepad before flipping her long blonde locks and disappearing behind the counter to shout Beth's order to the cooks while she prepared everyone's coffee. 

"Alright, let's get started. We want to find Troy as quickly as we can," Sam said, after clearing his throat. Dean nodded in agreement, still giving Beth an offhand glare. She had half a mind to kick him back, but that would just make things appear even more awkward. Rachel was already giving her the stink eye. "Um...can you tell us if anything weird happened before he went missing? Did you talk to him at all before then?"

Amy wrung her hands together. She looked up at Rachel, as though asking for help. Rachel only shrugged, but she consoled her more gently by squeezing her interlocked hands. Amy sighed, her shoulders sagging the same way Sam's had in the Impala after Beth's snarky remark. She cleared her throat before beginning, "I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did." Her voice cracked. She inconspicuously brought up a hand to wipe at the gathering tears. Beth felt a lot more for her. She wished again she really was Troy's cousin. 

"He didn't say anything strange?" Sam asked, "Or...out of the ordinary?"

Amy could only shake her head. "No. Nothing I can remember." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her hand instinctively coming up and gripping a small charm that was attached to a thin chain around her neck. At her first glance before outside the old theater, Beth had just assumed it was a necklace with an exaggerated design to catch attention, but her eyes focused on the small shape, almost snorting sarcastically. Sam must have noticed, too, because he commented on it a moment after. 

"I like your necklace," he complimented. It was a pentagram held in a tight circle, a familiar shape Beth had seen more in her life than cartoons on the television screen.

Amy smiled, tugging it a little harder. "Troy, um...Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents." She pauses to laugh. She doesn't continue until after the waitress, who suddenly appeared with a platter of their things, disappears once more. Beth licked her lips at the sight of the food, but she makes a beeline for her coffee first, grabbing the sugar dispenser and pouring as much as she could inside, almost making it more sugar than coffee, but that was how she liked it. Tugging at the spoon left on her plate, she quickly began to stir, looking at Amy expectantly, wanting her to continue. "Um...anyway, he got it to scare my parents. They have a lot of issues with...with all that kinda stuff. The devil stuff, I mean." 

"Actually, uh...it means just the opposite," Sam smiled. It seemed like he was trying to get her to feel better. She was clearly not. She looked miserable. Beth, at last, brought her coffee cup up to her lips and took a big gulp. She could feel the sugar crackle against her teeth. Either she didn't mix it well enough or she really did put too much. "A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." 

"Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries," Dean jokes, swiping a strip of bacon from Beth's plate and popping it into his mouth with a grin. After chewing for a few moments, he swallows and leans forward, staring very seriously at Amy and Rachel, "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So, if you've heard anything..."

Amy and Rachel suddenly flinched. Almost as though by pure instinct, they give each other a look. Amy had gone slightly rigid, bringing her coffee to her lips and taking a long sip as though avoiding the question. Beth narrows her eyes. 

"What? What is it?" she asked. 

"Well, it's just...I mean with all these guys going missing, it's just talk," Amy tries to laugh it off. 

"Enlighten us," Beth coaxes. 

"It's kind of this local legend, I guess," Amy begins like she was on the verge of telling some scary story. Nothing could really scare Beth these days, however. She's been up against every beast they've tried to mimic on the movie screen, anyhow. Somehow they never seem to catch the real essence of a vampire trying to rip out your throat. "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like...decades ago. And, well...as the legend goes, she's still...out there."

Rachel was almost buzzing in her seat. She suddenly continued the story, "She hitchhikes and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever." 

The story managed to render the Winchester siblings silent. Sam and Dean were blinking rapidly at the girls while Beth stared at her plate incredulously, her stomach churning uncomfortably. If her father wasn't here, perhaps the dead woman...but that couldn't be it. That was too easy. Her father would never fall prey to something like that. Dean must've noticed her sudden change of expression. Subtly, he reached under the table and grasped her hand, squeezing it gingerly as a way to comfort. Amy and Rachel didn't seem to take this story as seriously as they did. Why would they? They didn't hunt for these kind of beasts on a daily basis. They didn't check in their closets or under their beds for what could be lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Perhaps that dead woman waited for the perfect moment to get her father. But...no...

"Oh, shoot," Amy said, glancing down at her watch. "I was supposed to meet my dad ten minutes ago. He said he'll tell me what Officer Jaffe found about Troy. Maybe they found something." She suddenly began fishing around in her pocket, seemingly for money so she could pay for their drinks. 

The big gentleman that he was, Sam raised a hand and smiled, saying, "We got it. You go find your father."

"Thank you," Amy said. "Um...if I find Troy, I'll tell him to call you guys. I know you'll probably wanna see him, too. Thanks for the coffee. C'mon, Rachel." Amy grabbed the posters she had left off to the side and made a beeline for the door, Rachel hot on her tail, not even giving the siblings a second glance. It was clear even after all of that, she still didn't trust them. Smart chick, but it kind of pissed Beth off. As soon as they were out of the restaurant, Sam immediately ducked his head and looked between Dean and Beth. 

"Seems like a dead girl walking isn't so far off base here, but they don't see it enough to really raise any red flags," he mumbles under his breath, looking around to be sure they weren't being overheard. Everyone was still tending to their meals, barely acknowledging the three of them. Beth was still rooted to her chair, her lips moving with no sound. She used to think aloud, especially when she was doing homework on a concept she didn't understand. Talking about it to herself out loud often helped, but it often interfered with her father's wistful thinking from the armchair in front of the television, a beer in his hand. She had taught herself to stop it, let her lips move with every word but not a sound would be elicited, lest she want to be yelled at. 

"Dean...Dean, you don't think..." she trails off, looking up at him. 

"Don't be stupid," he says, giving her an assuring smile. "Dad's a tough son of a bitch He wouldn't go down that easy."

"But wouldn't that make sense? Something weird really going down in this town that he didn't stop before disappearing? Dean, that's too coincidental." Beth said, completely ignoring Sam at this point, but he was still looking at her with such concern. He still cared, the stupid idiot. Beth felt even more guilty for how she was treating him. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Finally, she opened them again, nodding assuredly. "Okay...okay, then our next move should be looking into the murder on Centennial. We need to know more about this local legend." 

Sam and Dean both smiled at her. Dean proudly patted her on the shoulder. Their chairs scraped in unison as they pushed them back, getting to their feet. 

"Where the hell are you two going?"

"Uh...the library? To look into the dead girl?" Sam said, confused. 

"I still have a plate full of eggs and bacon. We can go once I'm done," Beth scoffs, grabbing her fork and knife, quickly digging in. Sam and Dean exchanged a look, rolling their eyes and sitting down again, both waiting impatiently for Beth to finish her unhealthy meal. 

* * *

Beth never fit into libraries. Back in school the only time she'd ever come here was to goof around with what little friends she had, either downing a flask Beth had snuck into school or exchanging enough gossip to make a nun blush. She also pilfered through books, tearing out random pages and using them to fluff up her pillow in her motel room because they were never quite soft enough. 

This library was alright. It was a lot bigger than Beth had imagined it, the shelves stocked with books, complete with an old librarian pushing around a cart to return the literature to its proper places. There weren't too many people inside. A few people were going through the shelves, looking for specific titles while others got comfy with what they chose, nose deep into the stories. When they had entered, Dean quickly took the lead toward the electronic section, knowing none of these books would be recent enough to give them any leads for deaths on the Centennial. The computers would be stock full of news stories, so it was the perfect choice. 

Sam and Beth each grabbed a separate computer chair to sit on either side of their eldest brother, peering curiously over his shoulder as he typed into the search bar. 

' _Female Murder Hitchhiking'._ Dean grabs the mouse and clicks the tiny 'GO' icon. The screen loaded for exactly twenty-three seconds. Beth hated slow internet, but in a town this small it probably took four to seven business days just to get an email. Might as well send them an actual letter. She deflated slightly upon seeing zero results on the computer screen.

Dean clicks his tongue, thinking for a moment, before replacing the word hitchhiking with Centennial Highway. He received the same results, which were none. 

"If this was porn we'd be knee deep in information right now, huh?" Beth said sarcastically. Dean shot her a glare, to which she retorted with her tongue sticking out. 

"Stop it you two," Sam orders, reaching for the keyboard. "My turn. Let me try."

Dean immediately smacked Sam's hand. Beth covered her mouth to mask the laughter. 

"It's a computer, Sammy, not that hard to figure out. I got this," Dean declared proudly. Sam seems to ignore him, pushing at Dean's chair and having it roll into Beth's, completely pushing them to the side. Beth squeaked, whereas Dean huffed and slapped Sam's shoulder, but their brother was busy typing rapidly onto the keyboard, focused on the screen like he was solving some complicated math problem. Beth couldn't see since she was pushed further away. Kicking her legs, she expertly swung the chair around both brothers and rolled until she was on Sam's other side. 

"You got something on your mind, Sammy?" Beth asked curiously. 

"So...angry spirits are born out of violent deaths, right?" he asked, completely ignoring Dean as he pouted. 

"Yeah."

"Well...maybe it's not murder," Sam suggests, clicking the 'GO' icon. Beth, at last, saw what he wrote. Suicide. Damn. 

Instead of the screen going to the same page that told them there were zero results, it directed them to an old newspaper article with the headline, ' _Suicide on Centennial_ '. Beth grinned. Dean, having forgotten what he was so angry about, mirrored his sister, clapping Sam proudly across the shoulder instead of the affronted shove he had before. 

Silently, the three of them squinted at the small text and took in the story, piecing it together with the legend Amy and Rachel had told them. 

At last, Sam spoke, "This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river."

"Does it say why she did it?" Dean asked. 

"Uh...yeah, it does," Sam said after reading the next few paragraphs. "An hour before they found her, she had called 911. Apparently her two kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them for only a minute, returns, both are dead, not breathing." Beth couldn't help but wince. A mother's remorse, the worst possible thing. Beth couldn't imagine what it felt like to lose your children, to have such a bond only for it to be ripped away from you. She gave a small shiver, shaking her head. That was a dark place. She didn't want to go there.

"Same bridge that Tony's car turned up on," she said instead, as a way of distracting herself. 

"Look here," Sam continued, "'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband, Joseph Welch." 

"Yikes," Beth mumbles. "Well, looks like we know what's our next stop. Only problem is we gotta wait until the sun drops. Too many onlookers, and I don't think Officer Jaffe would appreciate the three FBI agents that happened to insult him suddenly return with good intentions."

"She's right, we should wait," Dean agrees. "Then...we go see what's up with Sylvania bridge."

"In the mean time, you guys wanna watch funny internet videos?" Beth asked, taking the keyboard.

"No!" Sam and Dean said in unison. 

* * *

Dusk had come soon enough. They spent another half hour at the library, going through any other articles to do with Constance Welch, but none of them gave much more information that was useful. The library was already closing by the time they left to slip into Baby, waiting for Dean to start her up and take them back on route to the bridge. Beth was still determined to find her dad, and if this...this dead girl has to do with his disappearance, Beth will kill her herself, dead children be damned. Nobody comes between Beth and her family and gets away with it, as cliché as that sounds. She knows she's not much to look at. She's petite with little muscle, and she was still wearing the goddamn rainbow sweater, but she was a gifted fighter. A force to be reckoned with, according to Dean. 

The bridge was far creepier at night, Beth thought as they pulled up. With the cop cars and people gone, it was just an incomplete bridge with a dead end. The rushing waters below did nothing to curb Beth's uneasiness, but she swallowed her nerves and replaced it with faux bravery. If she couldn't be brave on her own, she'd just have to pretend. She was awful good at that. Dean switched off the car, and the three of them opened their doors and stepped out. Before Beth could even take a step, Sam put his hand up. 

"What?"

"Your shoes," he said. 

Beth glanced down at them. They were a bit muddier than this morning. 

"What about them?"

"They're untied," he sighed. "We're about to go on a bridge in the middle of the night where a woman possibly killed herself years ago. If we need to make a quick escape, it'd probably best to use the shoelaces. That's what they're there for." He was giving her the classical Winchester bitch face. Their father coined it. Sam just wore it best, but Beth was a stubborn little brat. With a mocking grin, she lifted her left foot first. 

"I'm just fine, but if you wanna pitch in."

Sam blinked at her. Dean was watching the exchange, shaking his head slowly. After a moment, Sam grumbled to himself and grabbed Beth's ankle, nearly tripping her, and planted it against his thigh, making quick use of his hands and tying her shoe for her. Beth was shocked. That wasn't the outcome she foresaw. Not at all. Her big brother, the same big brother she had been treating like crap since they left Stanford, was worried she'd manage to trip over herself if they needed to run, so much so he would tie her shoes for her. God, she was such a girl. Where were all these sudden emotions coming from? 

He finished and dropped her foot, beckoning at her to give him the other one. She obliged without complaint. Dean sighed exaggeratingly like a child. But Sam finished quicker than he had the other one. He didn't give her the chance to thank him, whipping around and nodding to Dean as he started down the bridge, hands deep in his jacket pockets. Beth stood there for a moment, contemplating what just happened. 

She knew she was being selfish. Hell, she was often selfish. She was the baby of the family and the only girl, it kind of came with the labels. Sam was aware of that, seeing as he grew up with it. Perhaps he thought she would've grown out of it in the four years he was gone. And when they reunite Beth treats him like he is the very bane of her existence. She sighed, looking up at the sky. She wished she could be acting a little better, but her stubbornness was relentless. At last, she followed her brothers, feeling much more steady on her feet now that her shoes were tied. 

She was a few feet behind her brothers as they walked, running her hand across the steel pipe making up the railing, meant to prevent everyone from falling over. It's funny that it played the exact opposite way it should have been. She peered down into the water below and felt her stomach drop a few feet below where it used to be. Shaking her head furiously, she moved several steps away so she wouldn't have to look at it anymore. 

For as long as she could remember, Beth had issues with...water like that. Swimming pools, ponds, swamps, oceans, lakes, the works, all of them freaked Beth out. She never learned how to swim, even when her father tried to teach the three of them in case any of their hunts happened to be out in the water. Beth refused, and Dean always tried his best to prevent her from going anywhere near it. It made her uneasy, not knowing what lurks in the deep depths of any body of water. 

"So...this is where Constance took a swan dive," Dean said, finally breaking the eery silence. 

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asked, following his brother toward the railing and peering down. Neither he nor Dean seemed to flinch at it. Must be nice. Beth kept her distance, but she was still close so she could hear what they had to say.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean said, as if it were obvious. He turned around and started walking again. Sam and Beth followed. 

"Okay, so now what?"

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean stated. By the way Sam's body language took a turn, this was the wrong thing to say. 

"Dean, I've told you, I've gotta get back Monday-"

"Monday, right." Dean stops walking and looks at Sam. "The interview."

"Yeah," Sam nods. He had stopped walking, too. Beth inched closer and closer to them, still staring wearily at the railing. 

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Beth whopped around at that, her fear suddenly forgotten. She definitely didn't expect something like that from Dean. Wasn't she supposed to be the inconsolable brat? Sam seemed to have taken that the wrong way, too, because he bucked up instead of slumping down like he had been doing with her. 

"Maybe. Why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Dean asked, making himself more irritated. 

"Alright, alright. That's enough," Beth tried to interfere. 

"No, and she's not ever going to know," Sam sneers, completely ignoring Beth. 

"Guys, now is not really the time."

"Well, that's healthy! You can pretend all you want, Sammy! But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are," Dean continues. 

"Seriously, Dean, we really don't need to do this right now. We're standing on a suicide brid-"

"And who's that?" Sam asked testily. 

"You're one of us," Dean states, pointing between him and Beth. 

"No. No, I'm not like you. Or Beth. Or Dad. This is _not_ going to be my life, you hear me?" Sam digresses. 

"You have a responsibility to-"

"To Dad? And what, his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, Annabeth and I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. I was two when she died. Beth was just a few months old. And, anyway, what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." He went there. He went there, and Beth couldn't save him. 

Dean snarled and grabbed the front of Sam's jacket, pushing him up against the railing with such an enraged face it scared even Beth. But she knew better. 

"Hey, hey, hey!" she shouts, going over to try and separate them. "Dean, stop!"

"Don't you talk about her like that," Dean says, his voice dangerously low. 

"Dean, let him go now," Beth hisses, her hand clutched to his arm. Dean takes a moment before finally letting Sam go. Beth breathed a sigh of relief. Dean snorts and turns away, going to make his way back to Baby just before he stopped dead. 

"Uh, guys?"

Sam and Beth sensed his tone and looked over. Beth froze in her tracks, her blue eyes widening as far as they could go. Perhaps her heart had stopped, that's why her blood suddenly ran cold. But no, she was still standing there, staring across the bridge where the three of them saw a woman standing on the railing barefoot, draped in a stainless white dress. She was a pretty woman, Beth could see, with delicate features and long raven hair. She looked over her shoulder at the three of them. Beth could see she looked so...sad. For a moment, they just stare at each other. Then, without warning, she takes a step and throws herself off the bridge. 

Beth covered her mouth as she yelped. Sam and Dean took initiative and ran over to where she had jumped, peering down towards the petrifying waters. 

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked. 

"I don't know, I can't see her," Sam said. 

The three of them flinched again at the sound of a large engine starting up. Baby's headlights suddenly came to life, illuminating the bridge for them as it faced them head-on. Beth stared at it in horror. It inched forward a couple of feet. 

"Dean...Dean, who's driving your car?" she asked. 

He suddenly raised a hand, where his car keys were hanging from. Of course. Why not?

The car is continuing forward, and it's clearly gathering speed. 

"Shoot! Go, go, go!" Sam yells, ushering Dean forward as they take off in a run. Instinctively, Beth does the same, running in the opposite direction as the driverless car takes off after them, the headlights getting brighter as it came closer. They needed to do something fast before they were flattened. Sam grabbed her wrist suddenly and he was pulling her toward the railing where the deep water was below, waiting to suck Beth in. No, no, no, she'd rather be run over!

Too late. Beth screamed at the top of her lungs as she felt the bridge leave from beneath her feet. Sam and Dean had jumped on either side of her as well, but she couldn't see them. She had her eyes closed. She waited and waited. 

_BOOM!_

The water was like needles all around her skin. She couldn't breathe. She definitely couldn't see which way was up. She tried to scream, but that was useless. Why was it so freaking cold? Beth kicked with her feet, trying to find the surface, but it was proving impossible. Damn it! Why didn't she just let her dad teach her how to swim? What the hell was she thinking? God, she was a complete idiot. A complete idiot that was about to drown. Her lungs were already screaming. Since she never saw the need to learn how to swim, she never saw the need to learn how to hold her breath neither. She continued kicking, her newly tied shoes clinging to her wet socks and wet feet. 

At last she breached the surface. 

"ANNABETH? ANNABETH, DAMN IT, ANSWER ME!" Who was calling for her? Where were they?

"Dean! Dean, over there!" Another voice. Probably Sam. She wondered for a moment whether the Impala had driven its way off the dead end. 

Beth was about to go under again. Oh, no. Oh, no, no-

She was suddenly seized around the middle and being tugged away. She tried not to cough and sputter over them, but she couldn't help it. If she had known she would fall into the water the way she had, she would've at least plugged her nose. 

When her savior found land and dropped her on it, Beth dug her hands into the muddy soil and crawled as far as she could from the water before dropping down from exhaustion. She groaned and slid onto her back, staring up at the night sky. It was freezing out. She should've worn two sweaters. 

A muddy figure was suddenly kneeling over over. 

"Annabeth, can you hear me? Annabeth, say something," it whispered. 

"You smell like a port-a-potty," Beth mumbles. She at last saw it was Dean, covered head to toe in mud. She lifted her arm. She was, too. 

"Yeah? So do you," he forced a laugh. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, you hear? I'm gonna make sure you carry floaties around with you for the rest of your life."

"You got it," Beth said, giving him a thumbs up. He held a hand out and she took it. Gingerly, he pulled her to her feet. Her knees buckled for a moment, but she quickly recovered and set on climbing up the rocky path to get back up toward the bridge where Sam had obviously clung to. Of course he didn't have to fall victim to the water. Son of a bitch. 

Sam met them about halfway as they got back on. He looked Beth up and down. 

"Awe, man, Beth, I...I didn't mean to do that. I should've kept my grip on you." he tried to apologize. 

"Hey, no sweat, I'm still kicking," Beth said, pushing him aside as she walked toward Baby, which was much closer now seeing as it was being driven like a madman thanks to Constance Welch. She must've stopped once they were off the bridge. The three of them leaned against the hood, now exhausted from running for their lives. Beth just wanted to find a heater. She was going to die of hypothermia at this rate. 

"Your car alright?" Sam asked. 

"Yeah," Dean said, patting the hood, "whatever she did to it, it seems fine now. That Constance chick, what a _bitch!_ " His voice echoed. 

They settle into silence now, Beth still shivering uncontrollably and feeling like she just ran a marathon. Sam suddenly looked between the two of them, his nose wrinkling. 

"What?" Dean asked. 

"You both smell like a toilet."


	5. Pilot

**Annabeth Winchester's Point of View**

* * *

Despite the utter non-cleanliness they both were currently displaying, Dean still insisted he and Beth sit on a towel. If he saw her move an inch, she would be forced to walk to the motel Sam had found on his cellphone. Thankfully, the drive wasn't too long, so Beth didn't have to force herself not to squirm for long. Dawn was already breaking by the time Dean pulled into the small parking lot. By then, the inside of Baby smelled eerily similar to sewage. That water could not have been clean. Not to sound morbid, but Beth knew if Constance wouldn't have drowned in that water, she'd have probably died from some weird infection instead. 

The fight Sam and Dean shared on the bridge was gone, almost like it never happened. Beth was relieved. She didn't like seeing her brothers fight, even if Sam was irritating her just as much. Plus, an angry Dean was never fun to deal with. He would often become blind, either cruel words spilling from his mouth or him becoming extremely reckless. And reckless means dumb. Dumb often means dead. Beth dealt with it for the better part of four years, but he never really stayed angry at her for long if she managed to piss him off or wound up nearly getting herself killed. He never apologized, though. At least, not explicitly. Instead, Dean would buy her breakfast or dinner. Sometimes he would purposely switch the motel television screen to her favorite channel, the one with all the trivia game shows. In worser times, when he'd yell or hurt her feelings, he'd pat her gingerly on the head, grab a couple of brewskis, and drive her out to the best spot every rundown town they fell into, and they'd watch the stars. God, even saying that felt cheesy. Why not just apologize, right? Dean wouldn't. however, but he meant these subtleties as much as he meant the subtle declarations of love for his family. He was just being a stupid _boy_. Beth smiled affectionately. Dean was always too proud. But she knew the truth.

The motel was dingy and old, judging by the peeling paint on the roof and doors. Some of the rooms even had tiles missing, making it difficult to understand what proper room number they were. Beth supposed the faded remnants of the tiles were supposed to give them some kind of hint, but she could tell this place rarely got any visitors. Dean parked across from the main office of the motel, where they were meant to produce IDs and credit cards for a room. As soon as the car was switched off, Beth quickly whipped open the door and stepped out, stretching her limbs. She didn't realize how much she needed to move during a car ride until she wasn't allowed to move at all. 

"Let's hurry up, I think the mud is starting to dry in my nether regions," Dean urges, digging into his pocket for his wallet as Sam took the lead toward the glass doors. With the way his shoulders shook, Beth could tell he was silently laughing. She hid her smile, following after her brothers, wondering if she'd have to fight Dean to get to the shower first. They always did on hunts together. She normally won, mostly because Dean's not petty enough to actually hurt her, but Beth does not think it's childish to 'accidentally' send her elbow where it hurts and dash for the bathroom when her brother's doubled over in pain. Besides, he always hogs the hot water if she doesn't get there first. 

The motel clerk was seemingly busy with cleaning his computer keyboard when they entered. He smelled them before he saw them. Beth could tell since he wrinkled his nose in disgust and lifted the rag he was cleaning with to his nose, sniffing at it to be sure that wasn't the source. When he realized that wasn't it, he finally turned around and jumped nearly five feet in the air upon seeing the three of them staring at him, two of them camouflaged in mud. 

Dean only gave him a smile, lifting his blue credit card in the air for viewing before dropping it unceremoniously onto the counter. 

The clerk glanced down at it. Beth could see the edges had three muddy fingerprints from where he was holding it. 

"One room, please," Dean said as kindly as he could. The clerk cleared his throat, abandoning his task in favor of grabbing the credit card and holding it up to read it. He squinted down at the name, making Beth frown. The sudden change in demeanor told her he was suddenly suspicious. She shifted on her feet, pointing her toes outward. Dean often told her if she was unsure of a situation, to always be ready to make a hasty exit. And with their track record, they're always making that, as they create a lot of different enemies. But she couldn't see what some motel clerk could have against them. 

"You guys having a reunion or something?" the clerk asked at last. 

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, confused. 

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month."

Beth stiffened. Burt Aframian. Her father was here, she couldn't believe it. Dean shifts and looks between her and Sam. Without saying much else, Dean pointed at him again, "Uh, yeah...distant family. Distant. Um...you couldn't, perhaps, tell me which room Burt took up in, though, could you? Is he still here?"

The motel clerk narrowed his eyes. "No, no he isn't. Haven't seen him in a while actually, but protocol says I can't give the room up until his time is up. And he paid all the money upfront. Let's get you three a room key, then, shall we? Maybe Burt will show up in due time." He turned to his computer, subtly dragging the rag over it one more time before typing rapidly. Sam, Beth, and Dean didn't say much more. The three of them were most likely thinking about one thing, Dad. Dad was here. That much was obvious. But, according to the motel clerk, he hasn't been seen in a while. Where the hell did he go? 

When the transaction was complete, the motel clerk handed Dean his credit card along with a room key. 

"The room was 247B," he said, deciding he was done with the matter. He probably had no clue the severity of Burt Aframian being at this exact motel. But they didn't let on that it was anymore important than them getting a room. Dean passed the key to Beth; she shoved it down her back pocket, knowing well enough they were not heading for that room at all. 247B was on their radar, and they were going to see what the hell was going on with their father before he disappeared. 

"247B...This way is A rooms which means," Beth turned down the opposite side and started walking, Sam and Dean hot on her tail. "Dad was here. I don't believe it. But if he hasn't been in his room for a while..." Beth shook her head, looking at each door as she passed. Each room seemed to have a decorative ficus outside their door. Some of them were dying, clearly neglected. She watched as the numbers got lower and lower until... "Here!"

The three of them stopped. 

"Gotta get us to the other side, Sammy. Don't think our hands are dry enough to keep steady with the picking. Plus, it's always been your game," Dean grinned, clapping Sam on the shoulder. 

"Right," Sam deadpanned. "You guys wait here."

He took off back toward the Impala to get the lockpicking kit. In Beth's humble opinion, every car should come with one. 

The sun was getting higher and higher. Despite not getting any sleep, Beth felt completely awake. Perhaps those two energy drinks she had(plus that coffee with too much sugar) held her much better than she had thought they would. She leaned on the wall beside the dying ficus and cluttered window that had the curtains drawn in to keep onlookers away. Knowing their Dad, he probably added more fabric just to be sure. 

"You really scared the hell outta me back there," Dean admitted with Sam gone. "For God's sake, Beth, I figured you'd have learned to at least doggy paddle by now?" 

Beth snorts, still leaning coyly, relaxed. "You worried about me, big brother?"

"Maybe, but I can still call you stupid."

"Look, I just never got over water, alright? Besides, not like all of our jobs are out on the sea. I never have to deal with it much, so why worry about it now?" Beth tries not to get angry with him. Really, his intentions were genuinely good. He was worried for her, worried she could've drowned back there, or she could've gotten swept out and eventually lost. Either way, it would not have ended well. Maybe she'd be the next Constance Welch. In that case, maybe she could find her father in the afterlife. _No. No. Stop it, Annabeth._

"I just think you should at least learn how to keep your head above water, that's all."

Beth shook her head, looking over his shoulder. Sam was heading back toward them. 

"I'll be fine," she mutters, standing straight again. "But...thank you. For worrying and for the saving. Look, you know my ass would've gotten handed to be me if you weren't there."

Dean didn't smile. He still had the same worried, exasperated face. Beth didn't have time to dwell on it. Sam was suddenly at their sides, prying open the tiny black velvety box and taking the tools inside, kneeling beside the brass doorknob and getting to work. Beth slinked around him to his other side so she could get a closer look. Since the conversation was officially abandoned, Dean crowded Sam, too, being mindful he didn't block the light. 

"How are you still good at this when it's been four years?" Beth asked. 

"Before I moved in with Jess, my dorm roommate would lock me out a lot so he could score with a couple of the Kappa Alpha Theta girls. 'Course, I always had to cram for exams, so I picked up getting in my own way now and again. Pissed him off, but I never failed a test," Sam explained, clicking his tongue when the door slid open with ease. He pushed the tools back in the velvety box before carefully pushing open the door. Beth peered inside, her mouth falling open in shock.

The room was dreary, and it smelled like sweat and cat piss all rolled into one. The walls were cluttered with newspaper clippings, photographs, and thin strings of yarn being connected with thumb tacks, like an overworked detective trying to find the connection with a homicide case. Beth stepped in, stumbling slightly when she saw the thick line of salt surrounding the door. She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, there were ancient angelic and demonic runes carved into the doorframe. The bed was unkempt, like Dad had gotten up and just gone about his day, or like he never slept at all. He was just tossing back and forth. The small table available with a lamp had clumps of fast food receipts and an old looking sub. She walked further in, continuing to look around. Dean was still outside, looking around as though he were keeping watch. Sam aggressively grabbed him by his collar and yanked him in, slamming the door behind them, throwing them into darkness. As Beth had predicted, her father had nailed up two comforters against the windows to keep anyone from seeing inside. That made sense. It looked like a serial killer wined and dined here. 

When they would stay in motel rooms growing up, their father often taught them the necessary precautions they were to take each time, but the methods were never this extensive. Whatever it was, he was afraid. Beth shivered. She has never seen her father afraid of anything. Just the thought of it put her on edge.

Dean lifted up the forgotten sub and took a sniff, recoiling in disgust. "I don't think he's been here for a couple of days at least." 

"At least," Beth repeated under her breath, approaching the walls of newspaper articles and polaroids, one of them being Constance Welch.

"Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in," Sam said, who was kneeled down by the salt line. 

"Beth?" 

Beth looked over her shoulder. Dean was watching her. 

"Whatcha got?"

Beth pointed. "Centennial Highway victims." The same photos that they had in the folder in the back of Baby were the same ones blown up and taped hastily to the motel walls, all with Dad's scrawls in the corners with his theories. She continued to follow the yarn as he made these connections. Dean had approached the wall she was just at, narrowing his eyes in confusion. 

"I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?" he asked, running his down one of the MISSING posters. 

"Dad figured it out." It was barely a whisper, but Beth heard it. She turned just in time to see Sam pull the tiny chain on the lamp, illuminating the room. He was at the wall with a bunch of torn out lore pages, some looking eerily familiar to the old books they saw at the library yesterday. But she never pegged her father to be a lover of proper literature etiquette. 

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, walking toward him. 

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."

And just like that, it clicked. It made sense. A woman in white. A woman long scorned by man stuck in the afterlife seeking vengeance on the very thing that reminds her of her anger. Beautifully tragic. Completely cliché, but who was she to judge? 

"Sly dogs," Dean grinned, pulling Sam in for a one armed hug. "Alright, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

"She might have another weakness," Sam suggested. 

"Well, Dad would want to make sure," Dean released Sam and leaned forward to read the article over again. "Does it say where she's buried?"

"No, not that I could tell. If I were Dad, though," Sam pauses to point at the picture in Constance's article, "I'd go ask her husband. If he's still alive, that is."

Dean clapped his hands together. Clearly he was getting excited that they were getting close to solving this thing. Beth couldn't help but smile. Just like she had felt on the bridge yesterday morning, she felt as though this dynamic was too familiar, Sam with them. Sam was the brains, Dean was the muscle, and Beth was the instigator. 

"Alright. Why don't you, uh, find an address. I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

"Dean," Sam started before Dean could move. He looked put out of place, his lips thinning as he pressed them harshly together. "Look, man...what I said earlier, about Mom and Dad? I'm sorry."

Dean shakes his head, lifting a hand. He was smiling. "No chick-flick moments." Typical boy, just like Beth mentioned. Even receiving an apology made him uncomfortable. Sam laughed it off, however. 

"Alright, alright. Jerk."

"Bitch."

"You're both dumbasses," Beth snorts, shaking her head. 

The two looked over at her, still grinning as they said in sudden unison, "Brat."

"Alright, alright, but forreal. I need to wash off." Dean declared.

He was looking toward the only other door besides the exit. That had to lead to the bathroom. Beth knew what she had to do. Letting out a tiny yell, she bounded forward, pushing Dean into Sam, before throwing herself into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her and locking the door. 

"BETH, DAMN IT! I CALLED IT!" Dean shouts, pounding on the door.

"Sorry! Can't hear you!" Beth sang, doing a little jig as she approached the shower. It wasn't anything fancy. It had a glass door to slide open and closed. There was a bottle of shampoo and body wash there for her to use, but seeing as it was her father's, she was going to smell like a guy afterwards. Better than sewage. She twisted the silver knob toward the red arrow, trying to find the highest of heat settings. She went back to the door. "Sammy! You mind gettin' my bag so I can change when I'm done?"

She could hear Dean going on a long tirade of curses and Sam laughing as he says, "Yeah, sure!" 

Beth, smiling to herself, began to undress. Stepping into the piping hot water was such a relief against her bruised skin. _This_ water, she was okay with. There was no risk of drowning here. There is no risk of her head going under and staying under. She doesn't have to worry about what lurks in the deep, nor what it feels like to have her lungs be torn from the inside out. Here, she could relax, get clean, and stretch. 

The shampoo didn't smell too bad, and she left plenty for Dean to use. The body wash, however, she made sure to give herself a very generous amount. There was mud _everywhere_. Every crevice, every inkling of creases and between her fingers and toes. She scrubbed herself raw before washing the soap off of her body and switching the water off. Stepping out, she grabbed a towel from the tiny bin that was full to the brim of fluffy, white towels, ready for the taking. Beth quickly dried her hair, her body, before gazing at herself in the mirror. 

Same black hair. Same blue eyes. Same pale skin, if not a little red because she took it too far with the scrubbing. She had a few bruises lining her clavicle from when she fell into the water. Otherwise, she was perfectly fine. She smiled, wrapping the towel firmly around her and unlocking the door. Stepping out, she could see hers and Dean's duffel bags on Dad's unmade bed. Dean was tapping his foot obnoxiously at the table with the old sub. Once he saw Beth step out, he quickly jumped to his feet and grabbed his bag, dragging it toward the bathroom. 

"There better still be hot water," he said as he passed her, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Beth turned to Sam, who was sitting on the end of the bed. 

"There is no hot water left."

* * *

Sam kindly stepped out of the room while Beth changed. Another sweater, this one a dark grey with white stitching forming a tiny kitten, a pair of cuffed jeans, along with her ruined sneakers. She had banged them together to try and get the mud off, but it seemed permanent. The next motel they found, she'd find a local laundromat and just wash them. She left them untied out of habit and went to knock on the door to let Sam know he could come back in. 

Around this time(a little while after Dean let out a loud cry from how cold the water was), Dean was singing in the shower, clearly enjoying the time to himself. Beth went to sit on the bed in the mean time, digging through her bag for her hairbrush. Her hair was still dripping, drying in tiny, unkempt ringlets. If she didn't brush it soon, it would get tangled. 

Sam whistled nonchalantly, glancing at the walls once more before taking a seat at the table with the lamp. 

"So," he started awkwardly, almost too quietly. Dean's voice seemed to be getting louder. "How's...how's everything been?"

Beth looked up at him as she ran her newly found brush through her hair. "Uh...you kinda got the hint this whole time, no? Four years hunting. Dad started relinquishing control about...seven months after you left? But even then, it was just Dean. I always had to have one or the other with me. But after the poltergeist incident, they know I can handle myself just fine." 

Sam smiled affectionately, giving a little chuckle. 

Beth mirrored it, continuing to detangle her hair. She couldn't help it. Suddenly she asked, "What's Jess like?" 

Sam looked surprised at that. He hadn't expected that question. If her attitude this entire time gave him any insinuation, it was that she wanted nothing to do with his new life, and that life included Jess. But Beth was feeling nice and a little curious. Dean did mention she was out of his league, which meant Jess was either incredibly beautiful or incredibly smart. Knowing Sam's type, she had to be a wonderful mix of both. Beth felt slightly jealous. Her trail of broken hearts were boys that had no knowledge of personal boundaries and girls who had no real interest, just curiosity of the same sex.

"I, uh, met her through our friend Brady, who introduced us. Guy knew exactly what he was doing, too. Jess is feisty. Haven't won in an argument with her yet, not that we have many. She's...actually a lot like you. Stubborn as all hell and unapologetic to boot. But she's caring and she's funny. Goofy. She's beautiful, too." Sam's eyes were unfocused, almost as though he were imagining Jess right in front of him. Beth smiled. He was clearly smitten. Jess must be an amazing gal. "You'd really like her."

The two of them paused. The shower had stopped running. Dean was done washing up, finally. By now Beth had brushed through her wet hair, too, so she just pushed it over her shoulders to dry, waiting impatiently for their big brother to join them. 

Beth was a lot less angry at Sam by now. Perhaps time was what she needed. That, and the acceptance that this life wasn't for him. He didn't want to live everyday fighting for his life just to stop some measly monster or undead creature that refuse to go down. It was almost like he never left. Her big brother was selfless, funny, still annoyingly smart, but he was more...relaxed now. Definitely better than the last time she saw him. She shook her head. Not a good time to remember that night. Not good at all.

Sam pulled out his cellphone just as Dean opened the door. No steam was coming out, which told Beth he got no hot water. She tried not to smile.

Sam held the phone up to his ear after pressing down on the tiny keypad, frowning. Beth could hear the quiet voice of a girl, " _Hey, it's me, it's about ten-twenty Saturday night..._ " That must be Jess. It had to be. 

"Hey, guys, I'm starving. Gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner. All I got was a piece of Beth's bacon. Either of you want anything?" Dean asked, shrugging on his jacket that was hanging on the headboard of the bed. He was dressed in clean clothes he had retrieved from his duffel bag. He looked and smelled so much better than he did before he went in. With the little shivers he was giving, Beth could tell the cold water did not help him. Beth felt more guilty now. 

"I'm sorry," she said, pulling at his jacket sleeve once he pulled it on. He shook his head, patting her on the hair affectionately. "I'll go with you to grab something to eat. You always get me the wrong thing, anyway."

"True," Dean chuckles, turning to Sam, "Sammy?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Sam said distractedly, looking down at his cellphone. Jess not answering seemed to put him off. 

"You sure? Aframian's buying," Dean suggests, waggling his eyebrows. 

"Mm-mm."

"Alright, then. C'mon, Beth," Dean ushers her off the bed, throwing a playful arm over her shoulders as they exit back out near the dying ficus. 

"You mind if we stop by a gas station to grab me an energy drink?" Beth asked as they stepped out into the parking lot and started walking toward the Impala.

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't need you on hyperdrive. You've had enough energy drinks for a while," Dean states, digging into his pocket for his keys. Once they got to the Impala, however, Beth got a real sense that something was wrong. Her senses were tingling. She could sense they were being watched and looked over her shoulder, past her brother's arm that was still wrapped coyly around her. The motel clerk that couldn't keep his keyboard clean was talking to Officer Jaffe and his buddies.

The motel clerk, at last, looked up. He pointed eagerly at the two of them. Dean, at this point, could see, too. He removed his arm from Beth's shoulders and dug his hand into his pocket, retrieved his phone, and he quickly dialed a number, pulling it up to his ear. It only rang once before the other person answered. Sam. 

"Dude, five-oh. Take off. I got Beth," Dean said automatically. Beth looked up at him, slightly offended. She didn't need to be 'got'. She could handle herself just fine. She's handled men in blue suits before, though those usually ended with different circumstances and her brother wasn't around to witness it. Beth shook her head. The officers were heading right toward them. Why didn't they just jump into Baby and drive off, meet Sam in an unmarked location? This was a huge road block that could easily be avoided. They needed to stop the woman in white. And Beth really was hungry!

"Go find Dad," Dean said before he finally hung up. The officers, at last, got to them. Officer Jaffe was giving them a weirdly calm smile, but Beth sensed this was going in the direction of her and Dean getting stuck in the back of their cruisers. She so hated handcuffs. They always chafed her wrists no matter how loose they were. "Problem, officers?"

"So we got the pretty boy and the pesky girl. Where's your partner, guys?" Officer Jaffe asked, hands on his hips. 

"Partner? What, what partner?" Dean asked, his voice getting shakier. Beth was just staring up at them incredulously, not knowing what to say. Usually Dean conned them out of these situations. 

"Go check the room, Boyd," Jaffe orders one of his men. 'Boyd' nods and starts off toward the motel room that may or may not still have Sam inside. "So! Fake U.S. Marshals. Fake credit cards. Either of you got anything that's real?"

"My boobs," Dean replied automatically. 

"Son of a bitch," Beth mumbled, smacking her face with her hand. At once, the officers advance on them. Jaffe takes Dean and slams him down on the hood of Baby, the clinking of metal plainly telling her they were handcuffing him. Beth turned to the only officer left, with the metallic nametag Hein. 

"I was tricked into this whole thing. He said if I helped he'd give me twenty bucks, honest," Beth grinned nonchalantly. Hein didn't blink. He just spun her around and slammed her up the side of the car instead. Beth grunted in pain at the handcuffs already digging into her wrists. Dean struggled to move his head so he could see them. 

"Hey, man, watch it!" he snaps, jerking at the hold Jaffe had on him. 

"Watch your tone, boy, before we give ya somethin' to worry about."

Beth purposely dragged her feet along as she was led to one of the police cruisers. Dean was led to the one behind it. She didn't like this. She didn't want to be separated. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Screw local law enforcement. They should've jumped into Baby and drove the hell off! God damn it! 

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Beth kept repeating as Hein opened the back door and shoved her unceremoniously inside. She yelped, hitting the top of her head. 

"Watch your head," Hein chuckled, slamming the door shut behind her.

Beth shifted around, pressing herself up against the door enough to peer into the window toward the cruiser behind them. Dean was being shoved in just as aggressively. He was looking in her direction with what she assumed to be an assuring gesture. Nope. Nope. Nope. This was not going to end well. 

* * *

This wasn't like _Law & Order_ at all. The interrogation room was cramped full of unopened boxes and the table looked quite dirty. They must also use this room for storage, which plainly told Beth that they didn't really get much crime up here if this is how their environment is. Her and Dean must really be their lucky day. She was left alone by Officer Hein in the room. He, at least, finally uncuffed her. Rubbing at her sore wrists, she quickly observed her surroundings, searching for anything that could aid in her escape so she could grab Dean, find Sam and Dad, and put a stop to Constance Welch once and for all. 

It took forever for the door to open again. Instead of Officer Hein, Beth surprisingly got Officer Jaffe. 

"Comfortable?" he asked calmly, shutting the door behind him. 

"Where's the pretty boy?" Beth demanded. 

"He's being held in a much nicer room, I'll tell ya that. That one actually has a heater," Officer Jaffe says, tugging his jacket tighter around him. He had a file in his hand, sitting across from her and calmly opening it.

In the police cruiser, Hein had finally read her her rights before asking for her name. Off the top of her head, Beth came up with Louise Merkins. Typical name. Beth could totally pass for a Louise. When they got here, she had to have her picture taken. Smiling obnoxiously at the camera, the flash nearly blinded her before she was ushered into here. 

"Louise Merkins," Officer Jaffe began, flicking back and forth on the single paper. "That's the name you're really going with?"

"It's the name I was born with," Beth said. 

"You understand what a merkin is, yes?"

"My...last name?"

"It's also a...specific kind of wig, normally used by sex workers. Are you aware of that, too?" 

Beth blinked several times. Of course she didn't know that. Why the hell would she know that? She looked around, wracking her mind for some kind of response, but she was sure her silence was a big enough hint that she was caught in a lie. Jesus, Dean was always better at this than her!

"It's, uh...a daily struggle I've had to live with all my life," she said at last, looking purposefully melancholy. Jaffe didn't even flinch.

"Well, then, Miss Merkins, let's get started. How about we begin with the motel room? By the looks of it, it's been lived in for quite a while, and it's covered from roof to floorboards in missing men, creepy Satanic symbols, and newspaper articles that haven't been strung up for years. You can understand my apprehensiveness in that you're not just a simple gal running into town with her boy-toy, can't you?"

Beth grimaced in immediate disgust. "Look, man, I really don't know what you're talkin' about. And that boy-toy is actually far from being that...my boy-toy, I mean. Either way, you've got the wrong people. Haven't done anything too far from the obligatory line of rules and regulations we're meant to follow. It's simply a being at the wrong place at the wrong time kind of deal." 

"Seeing as you faked being a U.S. official and even provided a fake credit card to the motel clerk." 

"Like I said, not anything too far," Beth said, leaning back in her chair. "You've got the wrong people. If anything, the two of us are making your job a whole lot easier." 

"By giving into the very confession I practically have written for you?"

"No. But I bet you're getting real tired of seeing dead men pop up on your fax machines with the word 'missing' printed in big, bold letters at the top. Let me ask you, have you found anything on Troy?"

Jaffe's mouth twitched. "No, but you probably already knew that, seein' as you and pretty boy are prime suspects. That, and the older guy that was stayin' in the same room. You tell me, Louise Merkins, where is Troy?" 

Beth frowned. Okay, now she was steadily getting angrier and angrier. Maybe Dean was right in mouthing off earlier. Local law enforcement are just the worst, worser(if that was even possible) when they didn't know what was going on. 

"Is it wise to make outrageous accusations when you have nothing to prove I have anything to do with that?" 

"I do when that motel room looks the way it did. Not to mention the involvement you have. I even got word from her father that you and two others spoke with Rachel, Troy's girlfriend? Surprised she didn't end up missing. Then again, I guess it's only the boys you're after." 

Beth's frown deepened somehow. This was going to be a long night. 

Almost as if reading her mind word for word, Jaffe slammed the file with the one paper shut, saying, "This is going to be a long night. Better sit tight, Louise."

* * *

Beth's head was stuck in her arms. Her head was ringing. She was utterly exhausted. Jaffe was relentless; he continuously badgered her with demands and more accusations, trying to paint her as this murderer, even though she wasn't even born when the first disappearance started. And Dean had been only three years old. They had nothing over her head to prove anything, they were just playing who has the biggest-

"Miss Merkins, we're not done here!" 

Beth grunts as she was pulled back up by her sweater collar. Jaffe snorted obnoxiously, sidling back over to his side and taking a seat once more. She rubbed at her eyes. She wondered how Sam was doing at the moment and whether or not he had Dad with him. Maybe they took down Constance together and were finally on their way to break her and Dean the hell out of this.

"Now, I've gone easy on you! But I want real answers. You're in deep enough as is. Don't make this any harder than it has to be!"

"I ain't changin' my story because there's nothing to change!" Beth snapped for what seemed to be the thirtieth time.

She thought she was going to burst into tears, she was so frustrated. Beth was tired. Not to mention completely stressing the hell out. If Sam and Dad didn't get here soon, her and Dean were going to be strapped down in orange jumpsuits ready to plunge into the never ending spiral of courtrooms and jurors claiming they're guilty for something they didn't do. That is, until Beth heard the slightest whisper of static. It stopped for a moment before it started again. 

Officer Jaffe pressed down on the button to his radio. "This is Jaffe, what is it?"

" _We got a call. Shots fired on Whiteford Road._ "

"You're kidding!"

" _We need units. Now._ "

Jaffe cursed loudly, slamming his fist down onto the table. Running a hand down his face, he shook his head and finally got to his feet. He moved back toward Beth, grabbing her left wrist and yanking her forward with no amount of gentleness. There was a small metal ring embedded into the table that Beth hadn't noticed before. Hooking one side of the handcuff to it, he used the free one to strap to her left wrist. 

"Hang tight, Louise. I ain't done with ya yet," Jaffe smirked. He straightened up, barked orders into his radio, and strode out of the room, leaving Beth inside. 

"ASSFACE!" she shrieked after him, pulling exaggeratingly at the cuffs, just before she yelped at the pain she brought upon herself. She couldn't sit like this forever. She was going to take advantage of this opportunity. Shaking her head to give herself a boost of confidence, Beth stood up from her chair, looking toward the boxes of files. Files meant papers. And papers meant paperclips. Paperclips meant makeshift key.

"I'm so smart," Beth hissed to herself, shifting herself as far around the table as she could with her wrist strapped. She reached with her right hand, but that was a no-go. Biting down on her bottom lip, Beth kicked out with her untied sneakers at one of the boxes, successfully knocking it over and having the files scatter around at her feet. "Yes!" She tried to lean down and grab one. Nope. She stretched as far as she could, instead, and dragged one of the line of papers closer to her so she could lean down and grab it, plucking off the paperclip and turning to free herself. She froze immediately upon seeing someone standing at the door. 

"Having fun?" Dean asked, smirking. 

"How long were you standing there?"

"Just in time to see the box go flying."

"And...and you couldn't just...call me, so I didn't have to do all this?" Beth asked, the paperclip in her hand. 

"It was fun to watch your brain finally get to work," Dean grinned. 

"Get me out of here, Dean."

* * *

Beth had never felt more relieved to be out of handcuffs and out of that damned police department. With the call for Whiteford Road, it was unusually empty, giving Dean and Beth the perfect opportunity at running out the front door. Dean grabbed for Beth's hand and quickly took off at a run as far from the department as they could get. Beth didn't care how much her lungs screamed for her to stop; she was getting away from there as quickly as she could. She never wanted to endure anything like that ever again. She didn't bother asking Dean how he escaped. It made much more sense than her doing the same. Dean was resourceful. Beth was meant to be the sneaky one that doesn't get caught. 

After about two minutes of running, Dean grabbed for Beth's wrist, stopping her in her tracks. They were on the far corner of the town, where streets were scarce and so were outside lighting. She was panting, hands on her knees. Her shoes were still untied. How the hell did she manage to get this far without tripping? Perhaps not looking and not thinking about it helped. She couldn't imagine how Dean would've been if she had fallen. Would he have laughed? He probably would've yelled at her first, just to get his point across that she should always have her shoes tied. 

"What...What happened to you? Who grilled you?" she asked at last, finally catching her breath. 

"Hein. I'm assuming you got Jaffe. What did he ask you?"

"My hand in marriage," Beth said sarcastically. "What do you think?" This was the first time she really got to get a good look at him in the hours they'd been apart. He had no visible bruises, so he didn't have to endure any good cop-bad cop shtick. She looked down toward his hands, surprised to see he was holding a book. "What, did you take their employee handbook or something?"

Dean looked down at his occupied hand, confused. Once he realized what she was questioning, his eyebrows raised and he tossed it to her. She clumsily caught it in her hands. When she got a better look at it, Beth's heart sunk down into her stomach. Somehow she felt much worse than she had when Jaffe was interrogating her. Dad's journal. It was Dad's _journal_. Just having it sit there unopened in her hands made her feel uneasy, like he would show up and yell at her for touching what wasn't hers. But that was impossible because he never went anywhere without it. 

"Dean, where's Dad?"

"Dad's gone." Dean quickly continued once he saw the look on Beth's face. "Not gone-gone! Just...he cleared out of Jericho. He left something for you and me." He flipped open the journal; Beth nearly shielded her eyes from the forbidden pages. Eventually he landed on a new entry written in black marker ink.

' **DEAN. ANNABETH. 35-111** '

"Coordinates," Beth mumbles, running her hand down the page.

"We need to call Sammy," Dean said, grinning. He patted his pockets and let his face drop. "I left my phone at the department. Damn it!"

Beth paled and felt around her pants. Nope. They confiscated hers, too, and she had been far too distracted to grab it. 

"You got a quarter?" Dean asked. 

* * *

It wasn't hard to find a payphone in a town as old as this. Dean, once snatching the coin from Beth's hands, stuffed himself inside the glass box, but he was courteous enough to leave the door open so Beth could listen in. Beth leaned against it, crossed at the ankles as she flipped through Dad's journal, now that she fully understood he intended for them to have it and use it to their own advantage. His handwriting was bulky and sloppy, but it was still easily understood. 

It only took just a few rings for Sam to answer. 

"Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal." Dean joked. Beth playfully rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe Sam pulled a stunt like that, however. It was quite surprising, but she was grateful. Any remnants of her anger for him returning to school by morning were gone. She was glad she got her older brother back, even if it was just a few days. She just wished she hadn't acted like a brat the entire time. "Listen, man, we gotta talk."

Sam seemed to jump into the conversation then, completely avoiding Dean's tone. Then again, Dad was probably the last thing on his mind right now. He clearly got the goods on the Constance Welch case.

"Sammy, would you shut up for one second?" Dean said as nicely as he could, pausing to let Sam reply again. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"Could've left more than a voicemail and note, though," Beth sang, continuing to flip through the pages. 

"I've got his journal," Dean stated, ignoring Beth. Sam's muffled replied didn't reach Beth. "Yeah, well, he did this time." Sam must've asked what he left for them in the journal, since that was obvious why it didn't follow him out of Jericho. "Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going." Another pause. "I don't know yet." There was suddenly a long pause before a loud bang that even Beth heard. She stopped thumbing through the journal to whip around toward Dean. "Sammy? SAM! SAMMY!"

"Dean, what's going on?" Beth asked, shoving herself in beside him, taking the phone and holding it between them so they could both hear. "Sam! You there? Hey!"

It was just a whisper. If she or Dean made one noise they would've missed it. Angling their ears closer, Beth could've sworn they heard, " _Take me home_."


	6. Pilot

** Annabeth Winchester's Point of View **

* * *

She was panicking. She had shouted into the phone until her throat was sore, but the dull tone told her the phone call had ended. Whether it was because the stupid payphone ran out of time or because Sam accidentally hung up was beyond her. What mattered, however, was that Annabeth and Dean rush to find their brother, who was clearly in danger of being hurt. Beth's heart was beating much faster than it had in the police station. 

"What do we do? What do we do?" she asked, walking back and forth, her father's journal still clutched in her hand. "Where...Where would he..." Beth paused, stopping in her tracks. A chill ran up her spine, making her shiver as she turned on the spot to face her oldest brother. Dean looked as lost as she had, running both of his hands down his face as he wracked his mind for any kind of solution. To get to their brother, they needed a set of wheels. But where would they go? They had no clue where Sammy even was. Well, Beth had an idea of where he could be. Without thinking, she threw the journal at him, making him jump nearly a foot into the air, staring at her with a mix of sudden anger and confusion. 

"Constance Welch's home. We need to get there. Fast. I'm gonna get us a set of wheels," Beth grinned. Of course. Why wouldn't it be? It's been right under their noses this entire time, and that would make the most sense, wouldn't it? A woman in white, pleading for naï ve men to give her a ride home, but they either never make it, or they die on the premises. Beth left her brother, heading back into town, being mindful in keeping her head down just in case someone spotted her. If it were the cops, she'd be utterly screwed. No way she could escape unscathed a second time. They might just put the whole town on lockdown. Then, what could she do?

This town must've implemented a mandatory curfew of some kind, probably due to all the deaths. It was dead quiet when she found herself on the familiar corner where all the shops, diners, and boutiques were lined up. All lights, excluding the street lamps, were down. There wasn't a vehicle to be spotted, much to her displeasure. That is, until she squinted into the darkness and saw a familiar cruiser parked in front of what looked to be the diner she had sampled yesterday. Beth smirked. What better vengeance than stealing the same vehicle from the same people that badgered you for hours? Beth bit her lip. This was not going to be easy. 

She was ever so grateful that her muddy shoes were still tied thanks to Sam. Tripping over her shoelaces at a time like this could be life threatening. She ducked down past every potted plant, counted to ten, listened, repeated. She was getting closer and closer. Soon, she could see her face reflected on the shiny hood. She turned towards the diner. There was one light on, and it was overhead the counter where the familiar waitress that served Beth, her brothers, and the girls sitting down on one of the stools and speaking with Officer Jaffe, who had a notepad out in front of him. He was probably gathering information in order to find Beth and Dean's whereabouts. He was in for a nasty surprise. This was definitely not Annabeth's first rodeo. 

She crawled to the driver's side, keeping herself concealed in the dark as much as possible. Officer Jaffe and the waitress were none the wiser, still talking intimately. Beth smirked. She got to the driver's side door and tested the door. Locked. Of course. But that was a minute problem. She hissed as she pressed herself up against the back door, sliding her hands back into her sweater and caressing her bra. She ripped at the bottom hem, prodding her index finger and thumb inside to clasp around her underwire. She gently pulled it out without poking herself. Once she had the whole thing, she put her hands back through the sleeves, angling the bra wire over the door's window, skillfully sliding it to and fro, keeping a steady eye on Jaffe and the waitress. If this alarm went off, that was it for her. She'd be captured. Hopefully Dean would have enough sense to go to Sam first, get him to safety. She could endure another three hours of torturous interrogations if it meant her big brother was safe. Both of them. 

The door unlocked with a tiny click. Beth nearly squealed, but she clapped a hand to her mouth to stop herself. _Don't be stupid, don't be stupid, don't be stupid_. Instead of bursting with excitement like she wanted to, Beth pulled the door handle and grinned as it finally gave, giving her complete access to the cruiser. She slipped into the driver's seat, squeaking at how far she went. She was too short for the way the seat was angled, but she had no way of moving forward. Sliding herself to the very edge of the seat, she ran her hands down the wheel toward the barrier underneath that kept her from the hidden wires. She grunted, digging her nails into the sides and pulling. It didn't budge. Licking her lips, she pressed her feet harshly into the floorboards, giving her leverage, before pulling with everything she had. With a clatter, it came off, flying from her hands and into the passenger seat beside her. 

Beth winced, clenching her eyes shut. Her heart was still pounding. Slowly turning on the spot, she gazed up into the diner. The officer and waitress have yet to budge. She was still in the clear. Smiling, she slid down the seat all the way, pressing her forehead onto the steering wheel as she squinted down, trying to find the right wires to tear and connect. Red, red, red, _red!_ She maneuvered her hands, pulling and twisting until she had access to the copper under the rubber. Beth bit her lip. She didn't have much more time. She twisted the copper together as good as she could, hearing the car come to life underneath her slowly but surely. When it was successfully attached, the cruiser lit up, the engine giving a definitive roar. Beth glanced hesitantly toward the diner, her foot raising threateningly to the gas as she switched it to drive. Jaffe was on his feet, his eyes giving her the impression he wasn't believing what he was seeing. With a smug smirk, Beth raised her right hand, giving him her favorite finger, before slamming down on the gas and taking off down the blocks she had slinked down just moments before, the roar of the engine giving her the encouragement she needed. 

In the rearview mirror, Beth could see Jaffe race outside, throwing his hands into the air, most likely screaming into the night his vulgarities and anger. Beth could only laugh hysterically, following the trail toward the payphone to retrieve Dean and go save Sam. She saw him, Dad's journal in hand. He looked like he was about to book it once he spotted the cruiser, but he stopped once he saw who was driving it. Beth pulled up clumsily beside him, slamming on the brakes and nearly sending her through the windshield. Aggressively, she slid the window down and grinned up at him, possibly looking just a little bit crazy. 

"I got us a ride!"

"You...you took...Beth, what the hell are you doing?"

"Saving Sam. Get the hell in," Beth hissed, jerking her head. 

Dean reaffirmed himself, mucking up the courage he needed to get going. "Move over. I'm driving." 

"As if this would go any other route, I can barely reach the pedals," Beth grinned, putting the cruiser in park before shifting toward the passenger seat. Dean opened the door and climbed in, looking much more comfortable with the room given to him. He put the cruiser in drive, before taking off. "You got the address?"

"You're lucky I memorized those news articles Dad had in his motel room," Dean said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Looks like we'll be off city limits, which works more in our favor. If Jaffe catches us, we're for sure getting the electric chair," Beth said. 

"I tried callin' Sammy again on the payphone. Radio silence," Dean replies curtly. He was worried. Beth bit her lip. What comfort could she offer? They were already rushing to rescue him. 

"We'll find him," she said at last, sounding so assured. "And when we do we're gonna kick his ass for making us worry. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I can keep this. I can feel it," Beth smiled, lifting a hand and squeezing his shoulder. "No chick-flick moments, I know. But make the exception for me. Just because I'm so awesome." She saw the corners of his mouth subtly inch upwards. She smiled to herself, a newfound fit of optimism hitting her. They were going to solve this. They were going to save Sammy.

Dean nods self-assuredly, almost like he read her mind, pressing more incessantly on the gas pedal. 

"How'd you even manage this?" he asked, probably trying to distract himself. 

"I'm impulsive, stupid, and I don't want Sammy to die either. Plus, Jaffe really just had it coming. It was also a redemption arc for Louise Merkins."

"Who?"

"Nevermind."

The cruiser continued down the dirt road until it came up to a T-intersection. Dean took the left and they were moving closer and closer to Sammy. Beth's heart started beating faster again. She could sense they were almost done with this job, almost. Constance could be put to rest and the men around here or traveling through would no longer fall prey to her clutches. She glanced toward Dean. He looked more worried than she felt. Beth could understand why. For his whole life, her big brother made it his mission to keep Sammy and Beth safe. His baby brother and his baby sister, his responsibility. A majority of the time it made Beth want to hurl or get pissy with him. She was raised the same way by the same man. Annabeth Lilith Winchester endured long training sessions that made her muscles ache and her head scream. She let up a lot of the normalities that should come with being a teenage girl; she needed no protection. If anything, people needed protection from her. Officer Jaffe was a clear indication of that. But with Dean, he always saw her as his baby sister, the one he's supposed to give noogies, bury underneath blankets where he's been farting, and who he's supposed to protect from any interested suitors. His liability. 

Beth appreciated it, no doubt. She felt the same way for him. She clearly had the same kinship for Sam, even after him leaving them four years ago. She just wished Dean wasn't putting so much pressure on himself. Part of the reason she doesn't ever want to get hurt or Sam is because he'd blame himself. It's what he's good at. 

"There," Dean said, suddenly breaking her from her thoughts. Sure enough, up ahead on top of a hill of dead grass and ferns laid an abandoned two story home. She couldn't tell if it had been white in its glory days or as brown as the chipped paint appeared. The porch was littered with cobwebs and dead leaves from the trees around the house. The front door was hanging only by the top hinges, the screen clawed through. But that wasn't what really caught Beth's attention. The Impala was parked across from the home, its headlights painting it in an eery, off-putting white glow. She could just see the top of Sam's head as Dean turned down into the broken open fence, racing to rescue him. 

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Beth encouraged, her hand on the door handle, ready to throw it open in order to save her brother. Dean parked a few yards away, suddenly digging into his pocket. Beth flinched upon seeing the pearly white hilt to his signature gun. Flabbergasted, she forgot herself for a moment as she declared, "You had time to get your gun but not our cellphones?"

"Priorities, Beth. Which does more damage?" Dean asked, slipping out. 

"Depends on what you're aiming for," Beth retorts, throwing open her door and following her brother as he raced toward the Impala. Beth could see Sam was leaning back in the front seat, grunting uncomfortably. To her horror, she could see a woman lying across his chest, running her hands seductively over his chest and grinding down over him. He was not enjoying it, clearly resisting her. She was hissing things into his ear that Beth could not hear. 

"You can't kill me," Beth heard Sam grunt, continuously pushing the ghost of Constance Welch away. "I'm not unfaithful. I've never been."

" _You will be_ ," Constance hissed. Her voice was like ice running down Beth's back. " _Just hold me._ "

"Dean, Dean, Dean!" Beth called to her brother, pleading for him to do something, anything. She couldn't. She was rooted to the ground, watching the events in front of her unfold like some kind of scary movie. And, usually, scary movies don't scare her. Why should they? Her entire life was a scary movie. 

Constance kissed Sam on the lips, though he didn't reciprocate, attempting to lunge forward, grab hold of something out of Beth's eyeshot. Then, as suddenly as they happened upon the scene, Constance disappeared from Sam's lap. Dean and Beth stopped, looking around in confusion. Where the hell did she go? Then, Sam started crying out in pain, so horrifyingly loud that Beth began to scream, too, clapping her hands to her mouth as she watched her older brother thrash around in pain. Constance, almost like a lantern, flickered to life before them, her face no longer beautiful as she dug her hand deeply into Sam's chest, practically ripping him apart with her decaying fingers. Beth was frozen, still screaming like Sam. Dean, as he was, took hold of his gun, switched the safety off, and took a shot. The bullet, as expected, went right through Constance. Sam whipped his head toward them, as though he were seeing them for the first time. But he was probably so distracted, that made sense. Constance paused on her ministrations, whipping around to face Dean and Beth, her face so sinister. 

Beth didn't know what to do. Without thinking, and once more relying on her own impulsiveness, she ripped the gun from Dean's hands and began firing shot after shot in Constance's direction, being mindful of her brother and trying not to catch him. Eventually, she disappeared. And Sam could finally sit up, clutching the front of his chest. Beth elicited a heavy sigh, her knees buckling. That rush of adrenaline that just hit her suddenly leaked out of her, leaving her breathless and exhausted. 

Sam clearly wasn't as comfortable. Shifting the gears in Baby, he stated darkly, "I'm taking you home." 

Dean pulled Beth back just as Sam slammed on the gas, the Impala racing forward and breaking through the old wood of Constance's home, sitting right in the living area with piles of debris surrounding him and on the hood. 

"Sammy's one crazy son of a bitch," Beth mumbled. 

"Sam! SAM! YOU OKAY?" Dean asked, running around Beth up to the house. Beth followed after him, still clutching the gun to her chest. 

The house smelled worse on the inside, like dead rats and manure. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She stopped by Dean, who was standing on the passenger side of Baby and peering inside at Sam, who was slumped forward on the steering wheel, looking quite delirious and in surprise at his own actions. 

"Sammy, are you okay?" Beth asked, searching his body for any major injuries. 

"I...think so," he said, grunting uncomfortably as he moved his head from the steering wheel. 

"Can you move?" Dean asked. 

"Help me, please?" Sam asked, making a movement to crawl over. Beth moved so Dean could comply, grabbing their brother's hand and helping him maneuver through the open window until he was standing before them. Sam grunted as Beth threw her arms around him in a tight hug. 

"I'm fine, really," he chuckled awkwardly. 

"I know that," Beth snorts, letting him go at last to smile up at him. "Just happy to see you're alive, Sammy."

"Uh, guys, may wanna cut that scene short," Dean said. Both looked toward him. Following his gaze, Beth froze upon seeing Constance Welch, in her beauty once more, holding up an old frame to her face, staring at the photo before her in horror. Feeling their gazes, her spirit glares at them, and she lets out a blood curdling scream as she throws down the photo and suddenly whirls her arm as though she were summoning something. Beth cried out in pain as the bureau that was pushed up against the raggedy old staircase suddenly slid from its position, pinning the three of them against the Impala. It dug cruelly into her stomach, making it difficult for her to breathe. 

"Beth, Beth the gun!" Dean grunted, trying to push the bureau off them. Beth flexed her hands where they were pinned at her sides. She was no longer holding the gun. She must've dropped it. 

"Please don't hate me," she squeaked as the chest of drawers pushed harder at them. "AGH!"

The lights, which should've been out years ago, suddenly gave a flicker. It was enough to catch the three siblings' attention. The three of them looked around, confused. Suddenly, what was heard was what seemed to be a trickle of water. If Beth didn't know any better, she'd say it was beginning to rain, but that wasn't the case. Constance sensed the change of atmosphere, too. She turned towards the rickety staircase, where a pool of water was dripping down like some kind of waterfall. With her new found distraction, Beth and her brothers began to push against the drawers once more, trying to get free. 

Constance slowly approached the staircase, her face transfixed in utter dread. An almost heavenly light was suddenly making a spotlight at the top of the staircase. From this angle, Beth couldn't see what it was, but after a moment of pause, she heard two voices in unison, the voices of children, say, " _You've come home to us, Mommy._ " Constance seemed so distraught. It finally clicked in Beth's head. Her kids.

Suddenly, there were two kids at Constance's side, both of them seemingly drenched in water, making Beth feel queasy. They were dressed in rotted clothes, and their faces resembled the innocence of who they once were. Constance backed up fearfully. Then they hugged her around the middle, clutching to her as she cried out in pain, screaming long into the night as the three of them glowed, surging in and out of focus until they were nothing but a giant puddle in the floor. 

The chest of drawers had finally stopped trying to cut the three of them in half. In one resounding swoop, Dean and Sam managed to shove it off, Beth keeling over and clutching her stomach. 

"You okay?" Dean asked, putting a hand on her back. 

"Oh, I'm peachy," Beth said, giving him and Sam the 'A-Okay' gesture. 

When she finally caught her breath, she stood up straight, looking at the puddle in bewilderment as she walked over and picked up the picture Constance had in her hand. The picture was of her, holding the same two children that embraced her to her with such love. The three of them looked so happy. Such an odd thing to see after what just occurred. 

"So this is where she drowned her kids," Dean said, hands on his hips. 

"That's why she could never go home," Sam declared proudly, looking around, "She was too scared to face them."

"Understandable. I'd be pissed, too, if I was spontaneously drowned in a bathtub because of infidelity," Beth said, tossing the picture carelessly aside. 

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy," Dean praised, playfully smacking Sam across the chest, making him double over slightly with a painful laugh. 

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. Both of you, honestly. What were you guys thinking, shooting Casper in the face? Freaks, the both of ya."

"Hey! We saved your ass," Dean said, before turning to Impala, his shoulders slumping considerably. "I'll tell you another thing, Sammy, if you screwed up my car? I'll kill you."

Sam laughed again. 

After finding Dean's gun and returning it to him, Beth went to wait with Sam outside of the Welch home while Dean carefully inched Baby out from the remnants of the house. It was taking some time; Dean needed to make sure the roof didn't accidentally cave in if he moved too much. Sam and Beth had helped him take the wood debris from the hood so it would be easier, but since when was pulling a full-sized vehicle out from a rotting house easy? 

Sam looked over their shoulders before turning to Beth. "Did you guys seriously steal a police cruiser?"

Beth smirked. "You noticed?"

"Kind of hard not to."

"You wanna take a joyride before we leave?"

"Are you kidding? It's bad enough you and Dean got arrested. You want me thrown in a cell, too?" Sam asked incredulously, though he was smiling. "You okay?"

"Me? I should be asking you that. You really pulled a _Fast and the Furious_ with Baby, and you're not even bleeding!" Beth said, punching him playfully in the shoulder. Sam chuckled, looking quite pleased with himself. They stayed silent for a few moments, watching as Dean slowly inched further from the wreckage. Beth looked up at him, smiling affectionately before frowning. She owed him. She did. "Sammy, I owe you an apology."

He looked down at her, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

"Look, man...the way I've been treating you. It's not right. Wasn't right." Beth couldn't look him in the eyes while she did this. She just stared at the broken home, hands deep in her pockets. "I know this life was never for you. Hell, you never let Dad forget it. And, maybe it bothered me so much because I always made myself think it was Dean and I that you had a problem with, not just the life. Four years without you, it was hell, Sam. Dean and I had a blast together, no doubt, but I know it would've felt a lot more like this if you were there, accomplishment. Excitement. But...that's just as selfish as you asking us to stop hunting. It's what we choose, and I guess I just never got that. You didn't do this to hurt us. And I just treated you like crap because you refuse to be something that isn't...you, you know?" 

"Annabeth..."

"Sam, I'm sorry. I don't blame you for leaving. I...I just miss you. Don't tell Dean I said that. But I miss you, Sammy." Beth lifted a hand to wipe at a few stray tears. She squeaked when she felt Sam suddenly pull her to his side. She didn't push him away. He leaned his chin down on the crown of her head, reminding her of how Dean would pat it to provide his own comfort. Beth realized after a moment this was Sam's way. 

"I miss you, too," he admitted. "You and Dean. All the time. You don't know how many times I've thought of picking up the phone and calling you guys, just to check in. Just to see how you're doing. I was just scared neither of you would answer."

"I would."

Sam smiled. 

The Impala was finally in the clear, pulling back further and further until it was parked right beside Sam and Beth. 

"You two chicks done with your sob fest, or are we gonna hit the road?" Dean asked, the passenger side window still pulled down so he could speak. 

"Shut up, jerk."

"Yeah, dumbass."

"Bitch. Brat. Get in the damn car," Dean laughed. 

Sam and Beth unattached themselves with a laugh, climbing into the passenger and backseat respectively. Once they were buckled in and sitting tight, Dean peeled out from the Welch land and back to the dirt road. Beth twisted herself in her seat to peek through the back window to the ruined home. She was glad they had done the job right, but she still couldn't help but feel for Constance Welch and the stomach churning deaths of her two kids. 

Dean had taken them back to the motel to grab their bags. The cops still marked it as a crime scene, so everything was relatively untouched. Beth slipped her duffel over her shoulders before making her way back to Baby and climbing in. She wished they could find a way to sneak back into the police station so she could grab her phone. She had an unfinished game of Tetris on there that she'd like to continue. She and Dean would just have to buy another burner phone and use Burt Aframian to get the minutes.

Dean peeled off into the road, heading toward the signs telling them they were officially exiting Jericho, California. Good. Beth never wanted to step foot in this town again. She sincerely hoped the people would mourn Troy and the other victims properly; they'll know soon enough this will not happen again. 

Dean blasted the radio, patting at Sam's shoulder. 

"We need to chart the coordinates to see where Dad's going next. Beth can barely count, so it's up to you," Dean instructed, grunting when Beth slapped him upside the head. Sam shook his head, opening the glove compartment automatically, knowing already there was a map inside, the same map they had used to find Sam's home. Along with that, he pulled out a ruler and a flashlight stashed beside the spare gun. Dean helpfully handed Sam Dad's journal with it open to the correct page that had his and Annabeth's name in big bold letters. 

Dean and Beth gave him the time he needed, bobbing their heads to the song as Dean continued down the road, further and further from Jericho. Beth wondered if Officer Jaffe would ever discover where his police cruiser is. Perhaps he'd issue a man hunt for her and Dean. That'd be absolutely hilarious. She hoped to never be on the receiving end of something like that ever again. She still felt so tired from the interrogations. She had honestly feared she would be rounded up into a van, ready to endure prison. Annabeth was not bred for prison conditions. She didn't even want to think about it. 

"Okay, here's where Dad went," Sam announced, thankfully taking Beth out of her own head. Dean turned the radio down so they could hear him better. "It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

Dean nods. "Sounds charming. How far?"

"About, um....six hundred miles," Sam estimated, reevaluating the map just to be sure. 

"Hey, if we could shag ass, we could make it by morning," Dean declared happily, tightening his hold on the wheel. Beth frowned. Seeing as she already knew what Sam wanted, even going as far as to speak it into existence with her own apology, she knew what had to come next. And she would have to endure awkward hours on the way to Blackwater in the passenger seat without Sam. She couldn't bring herself to say it, however. Thankfully, Sam already was. 

"Dean, I...um..." He couldn't say it fully, but Dean had to understand what he was insinuating. 

"You're not going," Dean said. It wasn't necessarily a question.

"The interview's in, like, ten hours. I gotta be there," Sam pleaded. He truly didn't want to argue. Dean slumped, disappointed. Beth sighed, rubbing her arms. She felt devastated, but she had already expected this. It wasn't much of a surprise. But she didn't want to go back to what was. She didn't want to hunt with just Dean, constantly missing Sam and bothering herself with wondering in what he was doing, who he was talking to, what he was thinking. But she owed him the support. She _owed_ him. 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'll take you home," Dean said at last. Sam bit his lip, but said nothing. Switching the flashlight off, they drove back to Stanford University in silence. The rock 'n roll continued to blare from the radio speakers. 

* * *

They arrived back at Sam's apartment far too soon. Beth's stomach was churning uncomfortably as she stared at the house she was glaring at just a few days ago. She didn't want Sam to go back. Perhaps they could convince this Jess to tagalong with them. It could be a four-person road trip, almost. It'd be fun. But that wasn't fair to ask. It just wasn't. 

Sam patted his thighs awkwardly as Dean shut the car off. 

"Well...this is it," he said. 

"This is it," Dean repeated.

Sam nods, unbuckles himself, and steps out of the passenger seat, grabbing his bag on the way out and double checking that it was full of his necessities still. Dean had the window rolled down so they could properly say their goodbyes. Beth leaned forward, her torso hanging from the seat as she pulled Sam down for a giant hug. 

Something in her flickered, as though something had just appeared just out of reach. But it wasn't Sam. He released her, patting the crown of her head with a smile. Clearly, he didn't feel that sudden zing. Beth tried to shake it off, swinging her leg over the front seat and replacing Sam's previous position. 

"Call me if you guys find him?" Sam asked, leaning on the door. He was looking at Dean. 

"You know we will," Dean smiles. 

"And maybe....maybe I can meet up with you guys later, huh?" Sam asked, almost like he was asking for permission just to see his siblings. 

"Yeah, alright," Dean agreed. Beth could see the disappointment and pain in his gaze. 

Sam nodded, looking toward Beth and pulling her forward to kiss her forehead. Flicking her nose playfully, he turned to head back up toward the house. Beth gasped slightly, going unnoticed by both of her brothers. She sensed the flicker from before moving. Moving. Hiding. She looked up toward the house. The flicker was there. Just out of reach. 

"Sam?" Dean called. 

Sam turned too quickly, too eagerly. 

"You know...we made a hell of a team back there," Dean said, smiling at last. 

"Yeah, we did," Sam agreed, giving a final wave, before walking toward his apartment. Dean smiled, pressing on the gas to leave. 

Beth was still trying to figure out what the sudden flicker was within her. It was moving around, in Sam's apartment. Still just out of sight. 

"We can stop at a 24-hour diner if you're hungry," Dean offered, seemingly trying to get her mind off of Sam. "I'm starving. We never did get anything to eat thanks to those asses."

"Dean, stop," Beth said, closing her eyes. She gripped the door. 

Dean didn't seem to understand her. "Look, Beth, I know. I don't like this either, but he made his choice-"

"No, Dean! Stop! STOP THE CAR!" Beth shouts, startling Dean into slamming on the brakes. Beth was grateful for pulling on her seatbelt, otherwise she'd be sporting a bloody nose from hitting it on the dashboard. She didn't care, however. She was looking over her shoulder, back to Sam's apartment. She could feel it. Something was in the house that shouldn't be. 

"Turn around," she ordered quietly. 

"Beth, what are you-"

"Dean, so help me, if you don't turn this car around, I will throw you out and do it myself! Now go back! GO!" Beth shrieked, already removing her seatbelt. Dean could clearly sense something was wrong. He pulled an illegal U-turn speeding back to Sam's apartment. Beth could still sense the intruder. How was this possible? She didn't want to think of it. As soon as Dean parked, Beth jumped from her side, Dean following suit. 

She clapped her hands to her face upon seeing the black smoke emitting from the home. 

"OH MY GOD!" she exclaimed, running to Sam's rescue, Dean right on her tail. Seeing as he knew this place better than she, he took the lead toward the door, jerking at the doorknob which was locked. He pushed Beth back gingerly in order to give himself room to kick the door down. He grunted, holding his arm over his nose to try not to breathe in the smoke. They could hear Sam yelling from somewhere in the home, alerting Beth. She could sense the intruder was officially gone, but right now, all she cared about was getting Sam the hell out of there. 

Dean led her to the back were a bedroom laid adjacent to the singular hallway littered with pictures of Sam and a beautiful blonde girl clearly smitten with him. Jess...

Beth yelled out in surprise when they reached the room. The ceiling was engulfed in flames, and the same blonde girl from the photos was pinned to it, her stomach peeled open. Sam was laying on the bed, staring up at her in disbelief, in bewilderment, in utter horror. Dean took charge in rushing forward, grabbing Sam aggressively and ushering him toward the door. 

"NO! NO!" Sam yelled, fighting against him. Beth finally gathered the courage to help, pulling at Sam's flailing limbs to remove him from the room, take him away from the fire. "JESS! PLEASE NO!"

The two of them eventually got Sam out. By that time, the entire apartment was up in flames, collapsing onto itself. Sam had fallen onto the concrete, still staring up at his home, tears staining his cheeks. He got up, ready to race back in. Almost like a football player, Dean railed him to keep him pinned down on the concrete, to safety. 

Beth clutched her chest, where she had previously felt the unfamiliar flicker. 

* * *

It didn't take long for the entire neighborhood to be littered with red and blue sirens from police cruisers, ambulances, and firetrucks, fighting to put the fire to rest. Sam's neighbors all stood on their front lawns, staring in shock at what had occurred. Dean and Beth are standing side by side, watching it all unfold. Dean had his hand on her head, patting it softly. She had cried for Sam, for the unknown Jess that she never had the chance to meet, for the confusion and self-awareness of the fact she sensed something was wrong inside that house, like she could feel whoever was inside putting Jess and Sam through this. 

Dean turned to Beth. "C'mon." He put his arm over her shoulders, turning them around and heading back toward the Impala. The trunk was wide open, Sam standing there with his back to them. He was clutching one of their shotguns, loading it up before tossing it inside just as they got to him. 

Sam was no longer crying. Sam was furious, full of such anger it scared Beth. Dean looked at him with sympathy. Sam clearly didn't want it. 

He turned to the trunk, putting his hand on it to close it. 

"We got work to do." 


	7. Wendigo

** Annabeth Winchester's Point of View **

* * *

It was almost surreal. Even when the fire burned down and the law enforcement managed to burrow everyone back into their homes, save for the three of them, but none of it felt real. Beth stood several feet away from the debris, still reeling from the fact she had sensed someone(or something) lurking throughout Sam's home, and now his girlfriend was dead with his home and all of their shared memories kaput. Sam was on his knees at the very edge of what used to be his apartment, picking up a stray piece of singed wood, inspecting it briefly before chucking it. Dean was a few feet behind him, running a hand through his hair. He didn't know what to do. He did his job as the big brother; he got his brother out, but...he couldn't save his girlfriend. It destroyed Sam. And because it destroyed Sam, it destroyed Dean. 

It destroyed Beth, too. She hurt so much for her big brother. Dean had managed to get him away from the Impala, insisting they stick around here and search for anything that could pinpoint the reason, but why? It was the same scenario, same blueprint followed from when their mother died. Ripped open stomach, pinned to the ceiling, bursting into flames. Her father never left any details out, which had often scared and made Beth uncomfortable growing up, but her father deemed it necessary his children understood what had happened so they'd get that angry drive to find whatever killed her, too. But now it had obviously taken Jess, purposely to either put Sam back in the game, or to throw the Winchester clan for another loop. 

But she wouldn't drag her brother so soon from where his love had been. She wanted answers, too. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe something was left behind that could help them understand why and how to find their father so they could destroy this thing. Follow the coordinate trail he had given them. Beth predicted that was where he was waiting for his children, unknowingly all of his children.

Beth felt the nerves in her legs suddenly come to life. They responded before her brain did that she was approaching Sam, her hands shaking. Dean could hear her and turned, quickly grabbing her wrist and shaking his head. No, now wasn't the time. Sam needed his space. Because he wasn't feeling it yet. He needed to mourn, but he was angry right now. He could burst out on Beth without meaning to, not that Beth would blame him. What he lost excused that tenfold, but she listened to Dean, leaning against him and stifling a sniff. He lifted a hand, gently petting her head as they both watched Sam. 

"Twenty years," she mumbled. 

Dean moved slightly, thinking he had heard her wrong. "What?"

"Twenty years, Dean. Twenty years since Mom died. Twenty years to this. What are we gonna do?" 

Dean sighed, squeezing her perhaps a little too tight as he wracked his thoughts for an answer. "For now we be here for Sammy. We check every corner of this campus, look for anything that tells us why, starting with the wreckage. But he needs time. Give him a little longer." Sam hadn't moved from his spot, but his shaking shoulders told Beth he was crying again. She wished she could console him properly, but Dean was right. He needed his space for now. 

* * *

They had been there for about a week. While Sam and Dean had used the dead of night to their advantage in breaking into homes, buildings, and such in search of anything out of the ordinary, Beth spent the days talking to Sam's classmates. Sam had offered to do it, insisting that he knew them best, but Dean knew that wasn't the best idea that he interact with anyone else so soon after Jess' passing. Beth decided to frame it like she was a detective, but most of the kids saw through that, seeing as they were either her age or older, so she just passed it off as being a nosy reporter. She subtly shook hands with each student, them thinking she had unusually sweaty palms, when they were really just moistened by holy water. 

Most of them were reeling from Jess' death, they talked about how amazing she was, or they didn't know her at all and were just sad she had to go so soon. Beth knew Sam wanted her to get to know his girlfriend, and from what she's heard, she was an incredible person, made everyone around her really happy. Her heart still broke for her brother, squeezing uncomfortably with every interview she got. None of them were out of the ordinary, and none of them flinched from her makeshift hand sanitizer. There was nothing, and her brothers found nothing either. It was like whatever it was showed up the one night, killed Jess, and moved on. 

Dean was the one who said it was time for them to go. They needed to find Dad, find him and get vengeance for Jess' death. Sam could easily agree to that. He found leaving his school far more easier than he had a week ago. Thanks to the circumstances, that was easy to articulate why. He said goodbye to a handful of people, but from Beth's interviewing she knew he had a lot more friends. It was probably too difficult to face them all. She could understand that. With that, he took what he could salvage from the fire and piled it all into a bag Dean lent him from the trunk. Once it was all piled in, they got into the Impala and they left, Stanford quickly disappearing behind them.

The excitement and feeling of completion with taking down the woman in white was forgotten. Sam had slumped down in the front seat, leaning his head against the window. He hardly spoke. Dean told Beth he wouldn't talk when they were ransacking the campus and Sam's neighborhood. If he did, it was just to tell him everything was clear. 

It was several hours into the dead of night when Sam finally went down, snoring quietly pressed up against the window. Beth took this opportunity to talk to Dean without being overheard. 

"Sammy was a lot more popular than he let on," she said, a small smile on her face. 

"Oh, yeah?" 

"His friends were worried about him. At that point they figured he was with Jess' family or preparing for the funeral. Obviously couldn't tell the truth, but their theories sounded nicer." She turned her head to look at Sam. His cheek was slightly smooshed, a line of drool falling from his bottom lip. Beth sighed, petting his hair sympathetically, being mindful not to wake him up. "He had a life, Dean. A whole life without us. Hated parties, apparently. His friends were constantly trying to get him to go, but he was always studying, always working. He'd only go if Jess was. He was the teachers' pet...with all of them. They all loved their prodigy and thought he would end up coming back to the school after graduation to teach with them."

"Well...he has to let that part go now."

"Come on, Dean," Beth snorts, looking up at him. "Don't be like that. He's letting go a big part of his life, a huge one. It's not just Jess, it's everything. His apple pie life came crumbling down in one night."

"So did ours," Dean stated matter-of-factly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm hurting for Sammy, too. God, am I hurting. But...if he dwells on the four years he was there, he will never get better. He won't. Finding Dad and taking down Jessica's killer needs to be his number one priority, and from what I saw last night, it is."

"Dean-"

"I don't want you bringing Stanford up unless he does it first. It'll just drag him down." 

Beth snorts. "You kidding me?"

"I'm not," Dean said, sighing as he took his right hand to rub the bridge of his nose. "Beth, look...I'm not trying to be an ass here. This is not some douche-y move comin' outta leftfield just because we got Sammy back. It's just...sometimes dwelling on the past hurts you, freezes you up. Makes you feel like you're stuck in that point of time. Sammy doesn't need that. He needs to process his damn feelings, make himself feel it completely, and move on."

Beth sat back, hitting the leather seats with a defeated thump. "Is that how you felt with Mom?"

Dean didn't reply. He returned both hands to the wheel, pressing slightly harder on the gas and making the Impala go faster. 

"I'm sorry," Beth said, face falling. "I didn't know. I was just getting a little defensive over Sam, and-"

"Don't worry about it. Seriously," Dean cut her off, his tone a little gentler. "You should get some sleep, Beth."

Beth wanted to talk about it more. Dean hadn't brought Mom up, but he definitely insinuated he was in Sam's shoes when she had died, too, and that bothered Beth. But she didn't wanna make him feel any worse than he did. Plus, she was really tired. Kicking off her shoes, she leaned back and laid across the back seats, tucking her hands back into her oversized sweater and closing her eyes. She shuffled around to get more comfortable, trying to rid her thoughts of all the terrible things. Of Jess. Of Dad. Of Sam. Now, Mom...Beth shivered. 

Dean shuffled around again like the other night, draping his leather jacket over her. 

* * *

It's been two days on the road now. Today was November 10th. Beth was wide awake in the backseat, flipping through a magazine she had stolen from the last gas station they visited with shirtless men on the front, posing for some kind of cologne. She didn't care. They were just very attractive. Sam was asleep at the moment. Dean's been letting him sleep in as much as possible. Beth had woken up with a start at the smell of bacon because Dean thought he could discreetly stop at a fast-food joint and get a bacon kolache without sharing. He still had remnants of the food at the corner of his mouth because she ripped the other half before he could hork it down and not share. 

Beth had a relatively full stomach, and a snarky grin that her brother sneered at. 

She elicited a tiny scream, however, when Sam suddenly lunged upward from his seat, clearly woken up from whatever dream he had been having. Dean only jumped, switching his gaze from the road, to Sam, to the road, and back to Sam.

"You okay?" Dean asked after a moment, giving Sam the chance to breathe. He sat back in his seat, clutching the front of his shirt and closing his eyes. Beth could only assume he was trying to get ahold of himself. She set aside her magazine and leaned forward, leaning on the front seat with both arms as she carefully examined her brother. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam said. Beth sensed the uneasiness in his tone. He was obviously lying. 

"Another nightmare?" Dean asked. Sam didn't reply. Instead, he opened the glove compartment and retrieved the map from inside. He had checked it several times the past two days, his finger following the same trail he had put there himself when following the coordinates Dad had given Dean and Beth. "You wanna drive for a while?" In unison, both their heads turned toward Dean. Sam looked surprised, whereas Beth looked downright offended.

"Dean, your whole life...you never once asked me that," Sam said with a laugh. 

"Just thought you might want to," Dean scoffs, his cheeks turning red. He turned back toward the road. "Never mind." 

"What the hell? You've never asked me that!" Beth says angrily, pushing his shoulder. 

"There's about a million reasons why you should never be behind the wheel."

"I copped the cop car!"

"You drove just a few blocks, don't get too excited. The day I let you drive Baby is the day I die," Dean says, smirking. "Plus...two to three days, just to be sure I am dead."

Beth scowls. "You wanna make it today?"

"Alright, alright," Sam laughs, gently pulling Beth away from the driver's seat, lest she be suddenly inspired to grab Dean by his hair and repeatedly throw him into the steering wheel. And she was. "Look, Dean...I know you're worried about me. I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay."

"No, you're not," Beth said, switching her glare from Dean to him, her expression softening. "You're scaring the hell outta me, Sammy."

"It's Sam and...I'm fine. Trust me. Now, help me out here. Where we at now?" Sam asked, gesturing to the map still in his hands. He was trying to distract Beth. 

"Just outside of Grand Junction," Dean answered instead. Beth rolled her eyes and fell back into her own seat, crossing her arms. 

Sam pauses, head still bent towards their destination just before he folds up the map and turns to Dean. "You know what, maybe we left Stanford too soon." 

"Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica-"

"We gotta find Dad first," Sam finished Dean's sentence for him. He slumped down again, looking pitiful. 

"Dad disappearing, and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence," Dean theorized aloud. "He'll have answers, I just know it."

"And Lord knows he's going to make us feel stupid because we didn't have said answers," Beth mumbles, before leaning forward again. "Tell you what, though, when we do find Dad...how we sure he's even gonna be the same? He's gone missing, left a case unsolved for us to take care of. It's not like him to just turn a blind eye. Unless he found something..."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. That was another line of hope to add to their faulty determination standards. 

Beth thought for a moment before suddenly throwing her leg over the front seat and struggling to crawl over. 

"Beth, what're you-Beth stop!" Dean says, angling his head so she wouldn't accidentally kick it with her untied shoe. He refused to let her back into Baby with her muddy sneakers, so he had thrown them out while going through Stanford. She simply replaced them with her extras, but she didn't have the energy to bend down and tie the laces. She grunts, clutching onto the leather seats as she squeezes between her two brothers, finally settling down when she was sat directly across from the radio. Dean did not look happy, whereas Sam was laughing quietly. Beth made grabby hands at the map. Sam, understanding, handed it over. 

She unfolded it, purposely striking Dean in the arm with the corner of it just to pester him. He grumbled under his breath. Beth stared down at the tiny black dot that was their destination. 

"This is weird," she said, leaning the map towards Sam so he could see. "These coordinates Dad left...Blackwater Ridge..."

"What about it?" Dean asked. 

"It's in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but woods," Sam said, sharing a look with Beth. 

"He's sending us to the middle of nowhere," Beth said, folding the map back up and shoving it into the glove compartment. "But...I could use a little mountain air. Last time we were out in somewhere like this we were hunting down a spirit stalking a high school camp in the woods. Convinced all those teens that it was some kind of serial killer, like in those bad horror movies? Kept it down as a local legend, plus we got to stay in those really comfortable bunk beds." Beth reminisced, smiling. 

"Oh, please, you didn't sleep a wink because you were so goddamn scared. I should've smothered you with your goddamn pillow, you kept me up for so long," Dean scoffed, smirking. Beth whipped around, shooting him a scowl. "Plus, you didn't even finish the job because you sprained your ankle and I had to carry you back while Dad took care of it. And somehow I got my ass chewed out for that."

"Because you stepped on _my_ foot and made me sprain it!"

"Because you never tie your goddamn shoes!"

"How the hell did you two survive for four years?" Sam asked, playfully rolling his eyes. 

* * *

It took about another hour for them to pull up to the ranger station in the small, mountainous terrain of a town. It was nice and cool up here and it was easy to see that the beautiful, thick woods were a big tourist attraction. This was the kind of scenery one would see in those stupid indie films where the protagonist is the girl next door and considered not pretty until she takes her glasses off. Beth liked to think she was that girl. Only, she didn't wear glasses. 

Dean stepped out and slammed the door shut before Beth could crawl out, purposely annoying her. She grumbled verbally. Sam kindly left his door open so she could slip out, patting her on the shoulder as they followed Dean inside, who was snickering quietly. Beth shoved him on her way inside, walking in and closing the door before he could follow. She snickered to herself, wandering around bemusedly. She could hear the door open behind her and Dean's annoyed grumble follow her.

It was a rustic setting with the walls littered with men posing with game, such as deer, mountain goats, and bears alike. At the center of the room was a 3D diagram of the woods, a tiny compass at the top right corner, depicting north, south, east, and west. Behind a small counter above a glass case displaying handguns, pocket knives, and sheaths, there were three certificates giving whomever owned the place the right to sell, hunt, and other things legally. It was the whole sha-bang. 

"So cool," Beth mumbled, walking around the diagram, running her finger over the plastic trees. 

"Okay...so it's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place," Sam explained, looking down at the map in earnest. Beth didn't really pay attention, focusing on the intimate details the artist put into this. 

"Guys, check out the size of this freaking bear," Dean said, seemingly ignoring Sam's observations in favor of one of the pictures. Indeed there was a bear, completely huge beside his killer, who posed proudly with a rifle above his head. Beth was in awe as she stood beside Dean, standing on the tips of her toes to get a better angle since it was hung to high up. 

"Dude, imagine if we got to take down a beauty like that," Beth said, poking at the glass on the frame. "I think we could do it."

"Oh, that's a given," Dean snorts. "I've never had bear before."

"Is it legal to eat them?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Guys," Sam says tiredly. "This isn't what we're here for." He appeared at Beth's side. 

"But, Sammy, look at the bear," Beth said, pointing at the picture.

"I see the bear, but that's not-"

" _You kids aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?_ "

Beth nearly jumped five feet in the air. The three of them turned in unison, standing across from a much older man clothed in an important looking uniform with a cowboy hat sitting prettily on his head. He had to be the ranger here. 

"Oh, no, sir," Sam surprisingly took the reigns, "we're environmental study majors at UC Boulder, just working on a paper."

"Recycle, man," Dean grins nonchalantly, raising a proud fist. 

"Bull," the ranger snorts, eyeing Beth in particular. She glanced down and winced. Dinosaur sweater. She just had to go with the dinosaur sweater today. "You're friends with that Haley girl, right?" Might as well stick to the assumptions, right? Plus, they were knee deep in a lie already, might as well play the part he was thinking they were playing. 

"Yeah, sorry. We are. Uh...Ranger..." Beth tried to read the gold tag on the right side of his chest, gleaming up at them. "Wilkinson."

"Well, I will tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons, now is it?" he snorted obnoxiously. Beth's eye twitched. Putting two and two together, she realized Haley must be hounding the ranger's station, worried about her brother who was currently(allegedly) in the woods at the moment, and she wanted him to be found. But the fact that Ranger Wilkinson wasn't treating it seriously bothered her. If Sam or Dean were lost in the woods and she went to someone for help(not that she ever would because she would most likely do it herself), she would hope they wouldn't treat her like she's stupid. "You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's fine."

"Wow, this place is lucky to have such an empathetic ranger in charge, huh?" Beth snootily quips, quickly being pulled to the side by Sam, glaring at her for her mouth. He shook his head at her. She didn't care. Sam stepped slightly in front of her so the ranger couldn't feel her spiteful glare.

"We definitely will, sir," Dean said apologetically, "Well, that Haley girl is quite a pistol, huh?"

"That is putting it mildly," Ranger Wilkinson said with a scoff. Beth was about to say something, but Sam's hand shot up and covered her mouth, successfully shutting her up. Her mouth truly did always get her into trouble.

"Actually, you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date." Dean said, sounding very convincing on his part. Why couldn't Beth be like that? _Because you always let your emotions get the better of you._ Oh, shut up. Beth managed to pull Sam's hand off her as she scolded herself mentally. 

The ranger was silent for a moment. Then he heaved a sigh and approached the counter with the glass case, obliging Dean's request. Dean pumped a fist and approached the counter to retrieve the copy, while Sam pulled Beth aside just out of earshot, probably wanting to scold her. 

"Need I remind you we are here to find Dad, not pick fights, right?" he said quietly. 

"Oh, c'mon, Sam, you heard him! Some chick is worried for her brother and he brushes it off and all but calls her crazy. He can suck my-" 

Sam covered her mouth again and was suddenly pulling her toward the door. "We'll be waiting by the car, Dean!" Dean barked a halfhearted reply as Sam opened the door and practically dragged Beth toward the Impala. 

"Dad should've made you eat soap a lot more," Sam said, finally moving his hand. 

Beth snorted. "But then I wouldn't be as funny! Besides, Dean's said worse when a hustling deal goes wrong. I'm very impressionable." She mockingly gave Sam an innocent puppy dog expression, to which he rolled his eyes. 

The door opened again, and Dean was walking out with a slip of paper in his hand, most likely being the permit that Haley's brother had signed. 

"Got an address!" Dean sang, waving it around. 

"What was that about Dean? Cruising for a hook up?" Sam asked, taking the permit and reading it himself.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought we were in there to get more info on Blackwater Ridge. We have the coordinates. What are we gonna do by talking with the girl? Let's just go find Dad," Sam insists, pushing the permit back in Dean's hands. 

"Wait, but...Wilkinson said that Haley's worried for her brother. Shouldn't we go make sure he's okay, too?" Beth asked, looking up at Dean in particular, almost like she was asking for permission. Sam clearly couldn't care less about the situation, and in the station all he seemed to care about was keeping their cover and avoiding any law enforcement on their asses, but Wilkinson seriously pissed Beth off. And his vague description of this Haley girl's situation successfully made Beth's concern flare up. "I don't wanna just leave the girl hanging. What if there is something wrong with the brother?"

"Not another pitstop for a hunt," Sam sighed exaggeratingly, running a hand down his face as he leaned on the Impala. Beth scoffs, shooting him a glare. 

"Oh, c'mon! What would you guys do if I was in the woods somewhere and you knew for sure there was something wrong? You do whatever it takes to find me. That's what I'd do for you. I think we should talk to Haley and see why she's so worried. Then we go looking for Dad and once we do, he can help us find the brother. Can't we do that? It's not like we're fighting a deadline here. Dad just gave us coordinates, no specific day to be there." Beth pleaded, pulling at Dean's sleeve insistently. 

Dean looked down at Beth with a soft, empathetic expression. He smirks and ruffles her hair. "Yeah, squirt, we can try. Besides, Sammy, maybe she can let us in on what we're going in for. You saw the bear in the photo. Could be more out there just like it. I'm equipped with the supernatural, not big ass predators waiting to sink their teeth in. Now, let's go." Beth smiled eagerly, quickly opening and crawling into the backseat. Sam made slow movements to get into the passenger seat, clearly unhappy with the way things were going. Beth didn't really mind. They were still going to find Dad, but if they could help this girl in the process, they should muck up and do it. 

* * *

Sam had begrudgingly helped Dean with the directions to finding the right street to the right house. It was a tiny bungalow with a tamed lawn, complete with a screen door and porch swing. It was cute, definitely better than anything Beth's ever lived in. Dean had stopped the car and pulled the keys from the ignition, stuffing the permit down his right pocket as he opened the glove compartment and retrieved two IDs with his and Beth's face staring at the camera. Before she could exit, however, Sam suddenly seized her upper arm. 

"What?" she asked. 

"Okay, please don't take this the wrong way, but this is what almost blew our cover the last time," he said, gesturing with his eyes at her sweater. "Open my duffel and grab one of my shirts."

"Seriously?"

"He's got a point, Beth. We're rangers here. Not the cast of Sesame Street. We'll wait outside for you," Dean said, opening his door and stepping out. Sam gave a sympathetic smile before following. Beth grumbled quietly, pulling out Sam's duffel bag from underneath the seats and unzipping it. Unlike Dean and herself, Sam actually packed a lot neater, his jeans folded and taking up one side and his flannel shirts on the other. His toiletries and other things were in the pockets at the side. What a nerd. Beth selected a navy blue flannel and made quick movements to shimmy herself out of her sweater and quickly button up the flannel, frowning at the way it hung uselessly at her waist, the material clinging to her shoulders and arms, falling past her hands. She looked ridiculous. The dinosaur sweater looked much better in comparison. Rolling her eyes, she shoved the duffel bag back underneath the seats, threw her sweater to the other side of the Impala, and stepped out. 

"It's like looking in the mirror," Dean snickered. Beth childishly stuck her tongue out before slamming the door shut and leading them to the front door. Dean and Sam followed close behind, Dean still laughing under his breath. Sam hushed him quickly, taking pity on their little sister and her predicament. Beth really didn't wanna appear like a brat. Truly, she didn't. But sweaters were her one...feminine thing. Growing up, she often watched enviously at her female classmates that were able to wear beautiful blouses with expensive jewelry and make their faces look so perfect with make up. Beth knew only how to use blush and the necessary materials to make her look a few years older. She never knew how to work mascara, foundation, or any of that stuff. She never knew how to curl her hair or bring attention to her changing body that earned enough curves here and there to turn heads. That was what often brought her to be the center of attention, some of the crueler classmates making menial insults and guesses of her sexuality because her father couldn't afford much. Her father and brothers were clueless, of course. They didn't understand the wants and needs Beth had. They were boys. If she had a mother, however... No. Not something she wanted to think of right now. 

When they found the sweaters at thrift stores that were in his budget, Beth had gone crazy, getting as much as she could. It was better than wearing the hand-me-downs of her brothers. People could finally tell she was a girl. But they were also no help to going undercover on their hunts, as people took one look at her and could see right through her lies, Officer Jaffe and Ranger Wilkinson being prime examples. Sam and Dean were right, and she knew that. She didn't have to like it, though. 

They got to the front porch. Seeing there was no doorbell, Beth knocked on the screen door as hard as she could, hoping she could be heard. She heard movement on the other side and suddenly the front door was open, letting the three of them see through the screen door at who Beth presumed to be Haley. She was very pretty with pale skin and wide blue eyes. Her hair, which was nearly as black as Beth's, was curly and fell gracefully to her shoulders. She was definitely not dressed for the cool weather, wearing a sleeveless shirt and cargo pants. She looked confused to see the three of them on her front porch. Dean must've thought she was pretty, too, since he suddenly pushed Beth behind him and shot the girl one of his better grins. 

"You must be Haley Collins," he said, his tone confident, "I'm Dean, this is Sam and Annabeth. We're, ah, we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over? He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy." This was the first time Beth was hearing the brother's name, assuming Dean had gotten it from the backcountry permit. 

Haley looked over the three of them, narrowing her eyes in disbelief. After a moment of pause, she said, "Let me see some ID." She sounded curt and confident, intimidating Beth slightly. She liked that. 

Dean and Beth dug into their pockets, retrieving their IDs. They still had to make a few for Sam to use, but hers and Dean's should be enough. 

Seeming to take that as a good gesture, Haley pushed open the screen door invitingly. 

"Come in."

"Thanks," Dean replied, smirking in a dazzling way as he eyed her up and down now that he had the full view. She was looking at something else, however. Her gaze fixed on Baby before she looked back at Dean. 

"That yours?"

"Yeah?"

"Nice car," she complimented, although it sounded like she was suspicious. Beth swallowed thickly, exchanging a look with Sam. He felt the same. She held the screen door open for Dean to pull and walk in after her, right after grinning at Sam and Beth and mouthing his appreciation for Haley's appearance. Sam rolled his eyes whereas Beth snickered, following her big brothers inside. 

Hopefully this visit would clear things up. By this time tomorrow, Haley would be reunited with Tommy and they'd be reunited with Dad. 

Or so Beth hoped. 


End file.
